Unexpected Adaptation
by Chaosia Guadimus
Summary: How life in Raccoon continues on after the events of Uncontrolled Exposure.
1. Chapter 1

_****This picks up where Uncontrolled Exposure left off. Just to warn some of these might be drabbles, some might be one shots and some may turn into novellas. I am warning that the M rating is here for a reason and this is going to be AU. somethings from the games may happen some may not. Hope everyone enjoys and on with the show! _

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><p><em><strong>Returns<strong>_

_June 1996_

Albert Wesker sighed as Raccoon City came into view, almost crowing in joy as he spotted the tell-tale buildings and lights. He turned, seeing Bastian start to visibly relax as well and knew that the man mirrored his sentiment. Whatever in the hell had possessed them to attempt any sort of retreat with STARS was beyond him . . . but he'd damn well learned his lesson.

He was never going anywhere if the words retreat, vacation, relaxation and fun were anywhere in the offer. Because he'd learned all of those words were merely hopeful synonyms for torture and agony. Not to mention the recipe for furthering insanity.

He shifted, settling deeper into the plush seat of the Land Rover; fighting the urge to grind his teeth when Bastian's voice filled the otherwise quiet cabin. Broaching a topic he desperately wanted left alone. His head was just now beginning not to pound and Albert wasn't above admitting that he was not fairing his first hangover well. At all.

"Well, we're almost in the city limits now . . . Are you actually going to tell me what happened last night or do I get to guess?"

God he wasn't ever going to look at alcohol with Shaw again much less partake. The idiot had tried to fucking kill him! And his damned sister had almost succeeded. But even knowing that he was going to have Birkin go and look over her theses-to give the extra little push to get her accredited if she needed it.

He snorted, looking out the window as he tried not to sulk; squinting as the late afternoon sun blared at him through the windows and tinted lenses of his glasses. As much hassle as he knew it could-would be he still wanted to see her take the position of assistant ME. If he had a way to keep tabs on the activities within the morgue-which was controlled ever so thoroughly by Dr. Connors- then it would make his life so much simpler. If he wasn't trying to stay ten steps ahead of both the local police force and any exterior agencies Connors could try to call then he wouldn't be anywhere near as hassled. He just had to find a way to repair the damage he'd unintentionally caused over the weekend. He closed his eyes, fighting off the wave of nausea trying to build. Had the sun always been so blasted bright? He clicked his tongue, pushing the bile back down his throat as he spoke. Speaking his mind with certainty.

"_**Nothing **_happened. She overreacted."

Bastian just raised a brow at him before nodding sagely, turning his eyes back to the road as the mile markers ticked off the ever decreasing distance to their home. As soon as he was in the city limits he was going to acquire his car and go straight to his home. And then he was going to sleep until his shift the following morning.

"Okay, fine. You know she'll tell me eventually right? So if you tried something stupid you'd best get it out in the open now while I'm in a good mood-"

"I didn't attempt anything Shaw. It was a mere misunderstanding-one she blew completely out of proportion."

"Yeah well you're lucky the others were so stone drunk they didn't hear the screams and crashes. Or that Khail and Claire had gone off for one last walk around the lake. Because my little brother and sister may aggravate one another to death but he'd kill you for what I walked in on."

Wesker turned, glaring at Shaw through his sunglasses hard enough to make the man actually fidget in seat. He however continued, some of the teasing back to his tone.

"Last chance, Captain."

He snorted, turning back towards the city passing behind the glass. Pointedly ignoring the imploring look and questioning tone of his subordinate. The man had caused enough trouble for him over the weekend and he would be damned if he was going to tell him anything. Besides he doubted Chaosia would either . . . seeing as in she was just as private as he was.

He reached up, rubbing his eyes before letting the glasses fall back into place; hissing to himself as the light still managed to hit him. Christ if he ever drank again then he needed his head examined.

_Why did the others do this to themselves?_

* * *

><p>One week later Chaosia Shaw stood before the review committee, trying not to fidget as the seven members reviewed her last thesis. She'd already been notified the day before that they had chosen to accept her Forensic Psychology dissertation-meaning that once the rigmarole of paperwork was completed she would at least have that PhD to tack behind her name with the other. And while she'd known that the decision had been made insanely fast she wasn't going to argue; just content that her work in the arena hadn't been for naught. But something about the way these people kept looking from her samples to her, whispering and conversing between themselves made her feel wary.<p>

They'd already questioned her for nearly an hour, making the standard interview run nearly twice as long. And while she could see they were truly trying to grasp what she'd researched-what she was claiming had been accomplished with this viral strain and probably others like it-it was easy to see they weren't happy about her findings.

Finally she straightened, trying to keep herself from glaring. If they were going to deny her thesis then they needed to go ahead and do it. And stop wasting her time. She went to speak when Dr. Elliott Martin-the eldest board member spoke, his voice silencing the others.

"Dr. Shaw . . . It is an extraordinary benefit for a researcher to devote themselves to a cause so thoroughly that they see the minute details others consistently overlook. The others on this board and myself all wish you were intent to pursue true medical and pharmaceutical research over your chosen field."

Chaosia raised a brow, dumfounded at what he was saying. Surely he was joking right? She wet her lips, clearing her throat as she tried to keep her composure.

"I am not sure I understand you're statement, Dr. Martin. I am a forensic pathologist-I was when I began my additional graduate studies."

He nodded, almost like he was placating a child before he spoke again. But this time his voice had an edge-one she would have to work harder to ignore if she wanted to survive this unscathed. She didn't understand what he was trying to accomplish but she wouldn't be part of it.

"I am well aware, of that Dr. Shaw. But I would hate to see such an intellect wither within the crypt of Raccoon Morgue. Surely your talents would be better used studying live viruses rather than samples? After our perusal of your thesis-of the degree of commitment and attention to detail- my superiors within Umbrella have instructed me to offer you an invitation. Accept it and you will have your own lab, staff and the means to properly track the changes and advances you've been studying. It is . . . a once in a lifetime opportunity. One rarely awarded to one so young."

She raised a brow, fighting back a snort even as the shock filtered through her system. She'd known Martin was one of the older research instructors within the university but she'd never guessed he worked primarily for Umbrella. Who had decided to send him into her doctoral interview as a headhunter. She blinked, shaking her head as she kindly refused his offer.

"I am sorry Dr. Martin but I must decline. I chose my profession for personal reasons; though be sure to tell your superiors that I graciously thank them for the invitation. It is flattering beyond belief."

Martin looked her over, eyes narrowed before he nodded; grinning sagely as the others around him whispered and talked. God they sounded like snakes hissing to one another.

"I assumed as much. Well, while it saddens me I will not hinder your progression. I can only ask you to remember, you always have a place within Umbrella should you desire it."

She stilled, holding her breath as he nodded to her; glancing to the other six around him before giving her a warm smile.

"It is with great pleasure that we accept your dissertation on biogenetic viral manipulation and the progression of said disease. Congratulations Dr. Shaw."

Chaosia blinked, drawing in a stuttering breath as she nodded. She thanked the board, accepting their thanks and congratulations before she moved into the hallway. And as soon as the heavy wooden doors closed behind her she sagged against them, covering her mouth with her hands as she closed her eyes.

_Oh dear God she was __**done**__ . . . she was done with __**school!**_

She straightened, pulling her cell phone from her blazer pocket and dialing a number she knew by heart. As soon as she heard the familiar voice she couldn't keep herself from smiling, her voice nearly ecstatic as she practically laughed into the phone.

"Dr. Connors? You told me to call as soon as the interview was over? Well I hereby accept the position. When do you want me to start?"

William Birkin grinned as he moved from the side entrance to the conference room, whistling to himself as he pushed through the door and out into the hallway. He'd thought Al was losing his mind when he'd called and asked him to facilitate the acceptance of the eager Dr. Shaw's thesis. But he'd agreed on principal alone. He'd fully expected to have to throw around his weight; maybe even contact one of Spencer's familiars and explain the situation-how the girl would finally give them a foothold in the morgue even if it was a tiny one. And that they could hopefully help refine whatever minimal skills she had and bend them to their purpose. Besides, he knew if the kid got her stripes then she would make life easier for his longtime partner . . . and then maybe he might be able to get the man into a lab more than he had in the past half a year.

So when he'd strolled into Dr. Martin's office two days before, requesting to review the girl's work he'd never expected to actually be impressed. The girl was thorough and meticulous in her research, documenting even the smallest changes and using them to further explain her reasoning. With an untrained eye she'd been able to spot the rings that announced the genetic tampering and with little to no extensive comprehension of the new virus she'd accurately predicted both the contraction rates and methods and the lifespan of the contagion.

And that wasn't even touching the suggestions she'd listed for if the strain were ever weaponized. Though it had been hypothetical she'd been thorough, outlaying possible ways to both improve and destroy the virus should someone succeed where these other labs were trying. All in all it was intriguing to see . . . and almost depressing that she was choosing to stay in the fucking morgue.

He shrugged, pushing his hair out of his face as he made his way towards the exit. He'd tell Albert that he threw in his two cents but he had a feeling that Wesker had known it wouldn't be necessary. Which made this a silent warning for him to be careful. A skilled viral pathologist working under Connors could cause trouble.

Especially since the old cow had a degrading sample of his baby's earlier stage.

Birkin rolled his eyes, pushing through the door and towards his car. He was off to run Al's errand so he might as well go liberate Sherry from school. And then they were going to visit her favorite Uncle. If he wasn't already out to lunch with his new friends. William snorted to himself, feeling his mood sour. He knew it was necessary for Albert to stay beneath the radar but he didn't particularly care for the amount of time he spent around the other officers-one in particular.

Birkin reached out to unlock his car when he froze, his mind finally forging the connection and filling in the blank that had nagged him since Wesker had called. He'd been racking his brain trying to remember why the name Shaw was so familiar. And now he finally knew.

Dr. Chaosia _**Shaw**_. The youngest sibling of STARS resident profiler _**Bastian Shaw**_- Albert Wesker's closest teammate within his merry little band of idiots. Birkin groaned, opening the door and sinking into the seat; letting his head fall to the steering wheel with a thud. Al had actually helped someone out-with very little to benefit himself.

Fucking hell . . . what was being around these retards doing to his friend?

* * *

><p>Bastian moved through the main work area of the STARS office, trying to get to his desk as fast as he could. He'd just come up from the firing range-where he'd spent nearly three hours trying to teach Vickers how to shoot something other than a shotgun- only to be cornered by Speyer in the hallway, the man asking him for Chaosia's number for the seventh time in the last week. And as soon as he'd gotten away-claiming that his sister was for all intents and purposes as gay as the day was long just so the idiot would quit asking-he'd come into the room to find his phone ringing off the hook.<p>

God he hated having to be acting Captain while Wesker was in meetings and Barry was off. He wasn't paid enough for this shit-he was just supposed to be the profiler and back up negotiator. Not a fucking babysitter, a mediator of disputes or even a goddamn dating service for Forest's stupid ass. What was it with that idiot and hitting on his teammate's sisters?

Hadn't the alchemy shot taught him anything?

He sagged into his seat, reaching out to grab the phone just as he looked over the million multicolored notes on his desk. Almost every single one of them was from Speyer and Vickers . . . and the only ones that weren't were from Redfield. He picked up the sloppily written blue-Chris's- his eyes widening before he shook his head.

_Christ on a cracker, __**really?**_

He picked up the phone, nearly barking into the receiver as he grumbled.

"Shaw."

"_Bastian? Is something wrong? I-I can always call back later."_

He sighed, running a hand down his face before he grimaced; scratching his cheek ruefully. He needed to shave. Badly . . . his stubble was almost as long as Chris's now. And that was something he couldn't abide.

"Nah, Chaos its fine. I just got a weird message. Apparently Chris had to take off to go check on Claire. Her bike broke down on her way back to school."

"_Why didn't she just call Khail?"_

Bastian rolled his eyes, snorting as he kicked his feet up and onto his desk; rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. They both knew why the girl hadn't called their brother . . . and it had to do with the fact that he'd harped at her for four days about how her precious bike wasn't going to make it back to their university.

"Cause pride's a bitch, little sister. What did you need?"

She grew quiet for a few moments before she spoke again, her voice overflowing with excitement. But he had to raise a brow at what she proposed.

"_Well see that's just it. I wanted to see if you were free for lunch. I have some pretty big news . . . if Captain Jackass hasn't already ruined my surprise."_

He glanced to his watch before shrugging, kicking his feet off his desk as he started gathering his things. It was right at noon so he could clock out and leave. But he couldn't help feeling-as he agreed to meet Chaos at the bar down the block-that he was forgetting something.

"Yeah. Meet me at O' Flanagan's in like ten minutes okay?"

"_You don't want me to come to the station? We can take the Chevelle-"_

"_**NO!**_ I-I'll just meet you there. I don't have too long to eat okay? It'll work better if I meet you."

She sounded confused but agreed, her voice wavering ever so slightly. But he didn't want to have to deal with Speyer again. The idiot was grating on his last fragile nerve . . . and if he came right out and asked Chaosia out he'd have to kill him. He rolled his eyes, wondering just why the man had decided to start all of this now.

Probably retribution for something.

"_Uh-okay . . . I'll just meet you there. Love you."_

He nodded, moving to drop the phone back into the cradle; barely getting the words out before he hung up.

"Love you too, brat. See you in a sec."

He shrugged into his coat, flicking his keys over his fingers as he turned to leave. Only to come face to face with Wesker, the Captain's brow raised over the rim of his dark tinted sunglasses. He faltered before regaining his composure, giving the man a smile as he went to step around him. But when Wesker moved to follow, walking with him out of the office and into the main portion of the precinct Bastian had to wonder what was going on.

"Uh Wesker, sir? Everything okay?"

Wesker nodded, reaching up and smoothing a hand over his hair; both of them passing through the last set of doors before the lobby at the same time.

"Everything is fine, Shaw. Chief Irons just wants me to go to the Coroner's Office before returning to the precinct. I think this is the first time I've told the man I was leaving for lunch that he didn't have something sarcastic to intone."

Bastian nodded, the two of them moving towards the parking garage at a fairly brisk pace.

"I hear that. You meeting your friend for lunch? Or is it a hot date, huh?"

Wesker stopped, tilting his head to where Bastian could see his disbelieving eyes staring at him over the rims of his glasses. The man narrowed his eyes, his lips tugging down at the sides.

"Please tell me this is some poor attempt at humor, Shaw."

Bastian looked at him like he was crazy, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket as he shook his head. Wesker sighed, rolling his eyes before sliding his glasses back up his nose; tsking at him as he almost growled.

"Oh that is just wonderful. You honestly forgot we were supposed to eat? It is Thursday, Shaw. The day you usually insist on dragging me to endure those infernal wings and whatever alcoholic malt beverage you can get your hands on."

Bastian blinked before paling, groaning as he ran his hand down his face. With everything going on between trying to show Vickers how to shoot and avoiding Speyer he'd completely forgotten . . . and now he was supposed to meet Chaosia in-he glanced to his watch-four minutes. He sighed, motioning towards his car.

"Jesus. Sorry boss. It's been a day but I think you already know that. Look Chaosia had some news so I told her I'd meet her. You're more than welcome to join us . . . and I know she's going into work after this so we'll just follow her to the morgue."

Wesker stilled before nodding, moving to follow him as he shook his head. And Bastian wasn't eve going to comment about the man's griping. He deserved to be ragged a little over forgetting they were supposed to eat. And for inadvertently throwing him and his sister together. He stopped at the back of his Landrover, Wesker continuing on to climb in the passenger side; still grumbling about his absentmindedness.

"Honestly Shaw I am beginning to question my sanity for associating with you."

Christ he was putting Chaosia and Wesker back together . . . after the two of them had come to such an explosive clash the morning they'd left to come back to Raccoon. He groaned, slapping his forehead before shaking himself; climbing into the car. God today just wasn't his day.

_At all._

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><p><em>yeah . . . <em>


	2. Chapter 2

**_Revelations & Affection_**

Chaosia looked around the crowded bar, trying not to grumble as more and more people poured through the doors of O' Flanagan's. She knew it was lunchtime but seriously how many people actually wanted to eat at a bar? Well other than her brother that is. She craned her neck, trying to see over the other patrons as they crowded around the bar and the front door; the sheer number of patrons and her lack of height making the endeavor all but pointless.

But just as she was going to sink back into the old booth and pout she saw a flash of dark hair and heard her brother's voice. She stretched again, pushing out of her seat for a second to wave as her brother pushed through the throngs of people.

"_**Bastian!"**_

He turned, his eyes scanning the room before they locked on her; his lips tugging into a tired grin as he moved to join her. But it was only when he was about three steps away that she realized he wasn't tired . . . he was nervous. And when he moved to sink into place beside her she saw why. Oh she was going to murder him and have Connors help her dispose of the body! Because there behind her idiot of a brother was the last person she ever wanted to see.

Captain Albert Wesker.

_Or better known as the drunken pervert extraordinaire. _

She turned, glaring at Bastian as Wesker sank into the booth across from her; tossing his light jacket aside before he reached for a menu. Acting for all the world like he wasn't intruding on something private. She opened her mouth to speak when Bastian's look stopped her, the same pleading face he'd used a million times over the tramp in Atlanta firmly in place. The one that begged and commanded her to behave all at once.

She narrowed her eyes and he nodded his bottom lip puckering slightly before she gave a long suffering sigh; deciding to play nice. Just this once. But as she reached to get her own menu Wesker spoke, making her head whip back to her brother hard enough that her neck actually hurt. Oh she really was going to kill him.

"Your brother said you had _**news**_ to share, Dear Heart. Please by all means do not let my presence stop you."

Bastian fidgeted before giving her a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck as she turned from him.

"Yeah . . . uh-what did you want to tell me?"

She crossed her arms, the simple action causing the material of her dress to pull taut around her chest and shoulders; exposing just the tiniest bit of the black lace at the top of her bra. She sighed, closing her eyes. Why had she decided to wear this damn thing to begin with . . . oh wait, she'd needed t look professional for the interview and the black dress had been perfect. The double lapel pencil dress was tailored to hug her curves while the soft rounded shoulder and military epaulettes with painted buttons made it a bit less formal-exactly what she'd needed for a summer interview in the middle of a heat wave. Too bad it didn't want to stay in place now that she'd sat down.

She rolled her eyes trying not groan aloud as she shifted in her seat. But as she went to move-to covertly readjust herself she noticed that Wesker had tugged his sunglasses off. And that his eyes weren't as focused on the menu as they were her chest.

She glared, moving her heeled foot under the table and catching him in the shin; the sound making Bastian jump just as Wesker yelped. Her brother turned to her while Wesker glared, his face falling into an absolutely dangerous expression as he spoke. But she didn't care. He'd acted like a total ass most of the time he'd been at her home on the lake-volleying between trying to be smooth and being a manipulative jerk with a few nice, vulnerable moments sprinkled on top just to irritate her even more. She wasn't happy he was here at her lunch with her brother but she had intended to play nice . . . until she'd caught him looking down her damn dress like some fucking idiot.

"Why must you **insist** on striking me every time we meet?"

She shrugged her voice saccharine and smooth she gave him a pointed look; her lips tugging into a smug smile all on their own. She hadn't told Bastian or Khail what had happened between them the last night at the lake. There hadn't been a point. They'd both been far too drunk and far too stupid to truly be held accountable for their actions-even though she knew that she was taking herself more into consideration than she was him.

Because she wasn't about to admit-even to herself-that she might've actually instigated everything on purpose just to see what he'd do. Or that she'd thoroughly enjoyed it. Nope. No way.

"Why must you be a perverse egotistical ass every time we meet?"

* * *

><p>Wesker glared at Chaosia, his eyes narrowing as she smirked at him. But he couldn't really be too upset. She had caught him looking . . . even if it hadn't been intentional. He closed his eyes, trying to gather himself as Bastian worked to keep peace between them. Though if he'd known exactly what had occurred-what Chaosia was referring to-then he doubted the man would be so quick to jump to his aide.<p>

Suddenly he was back at the lake, standing in her bedroom a few hours before dawn; the two arguing over his treatment of her before. And though now he could admit he'd been far too inebriated to attempt conversation-hell anything with the damned woman at the time he'd been adamant about getting her to see his way.

Which is why as soon as the others had passed out he'd marched right back up the steps and pushed into her bedroom. Uncaring that he'd walked in on her as she'd been stepping out of her bathroom, wrapped only in a tiny towel. And completely unconcerned with just how bad of an idea his plan had been.

She'd glared at him and told him to get out, to leave her alone and he'd just stepped closer. His voice taunting as he'd fired back at her.

"_No I think not. We are going to finish our discussion. Why do you seem intent to fawn over him? Over any of them? You've barely spared me a passing glance since Redfield returned. Yet you are resolute in your objection to your brother-how did you put it? Ah yes __**fucking**__ his sister."_

She'd snorted, turning from him as she moved to her dresser; tugging out a long black dress shirt-that judging from the length had once belonged to one of her brothers- and pulled it over her head. Whipping the towel out from under the shirt and tossing it in the hamper before she'd rounded on him. Her eyes weren't as clouded as they'd been before but it was still easy to see she'd been intoxicated at one point-and was probably more than slight buzzed, to quote Chris. Especially since he'd spotted the now empty crystal decanter atop her dresser.

"_What does it matter, Captain? What and __**who**__ I do are none of your business. Besides I would think you had more oh-so-important things to worry about in your life. Why do you care if I'm nicer to Chris than I am you? I __**tried**__ to be pleasant and you turned out to be a manipulative, petty fuck. One who just __**had**__ to turn things to your advantage even when they didn't really benefit you! Has your life been that fucking __**pathetic**__, that __**empty**__ that you can't just allow things to run their course around you? Do you have to control __**everything**__? God I'm neurotic and even __**I **__can let the little shit slide!"_

He'd blinked, stunned but she'd continued. And her words had made him grow angrier by the moment. God she'd better be ten sheets to the wind or Bastian's sister was going to turn up missing-her body washing up in the river with no fingers or teeth after he gifted her to William as a new test subject.

"_If you'd wanted to see what I was working on you could've asked. You could've just showed interest and I would've told you. Gladly since Bastian doesn't like to do anything with viruses these days. They all remind him too much of __**her!**__ But oh no. You had to be a bigshot and throw your weight around, try and blackmail me to keep the advantage. I mean Christ, how bad does your life suck that you don't even know how to deal with normal fucking people? Other than the whores, sluts and married women my brother insists you bed out of boredom and apathy." _

He'd snapped at her, his voice dropping low before he'd been able to stop himself. But even as he seethed down at her he'd never contemplated that putting himself that close to her would be dangerous.

"_I have a life, Dear Heart. A very lucrative and productive one. But what of __**yours?**__ Outside of this house and whatever pitiful seconds your brothers throw at you what do you do? Work? __**Drink?**__ You've consumed more alcohol than any woman I've ever seen in the past few days."_

She glared, her eyes going colder than he'd ever seen them as she stretched to her tiptoes. And Wesker hadn't been able to help but inhale deeply. She was wearing some damnably sweet perfume, her scent wrapping around comfortingly him even as her words had worked to tear him to pieces.

"_What does my life have to do with you, Albert Wesker? Hm? You've made it more than clear-since the first day you got here- that I'm beneath your notice so do __**not**__ lecture me on how to behave. Like you'd know anyway-all you deal with are empty minded little fawns; lambs to the slaughter that want to be sacrificed to God's gift; the magnificent Dr. Wesker, Captain of STARS." _

He'd smirked down at her, seeing the opportunity to bring her ego down a few notches. It wasn't like she was correct in her assumptions about his knowledge of women . . . hell, he'd been with plenty-some of the best society and propriety had to offer. But the seemingly meaningless sex was one of the perks of being who he was; of holding his position within both Umbrella and the ruse he infiltrated within the RPD. As well as a tool at his disposal should he chose to utilize it-even against her. And she was insane to think otherwise. If he _wanted_ her panting on that bed, the only thing stopping him would be Bastian's direct request-that he be serious about his intentions if he ever bedded her.

But if she didn't cease with this new found defiance-this sheer fire then even that wasn't going to influence his decision. He would fuck her just to break her, to prove he could and would control her; the same as he could any other person alive.

"_And I wager that it consumes you alive, doesn't it? Knowing that those women can have me however they chose; as often as __**I**__ chose. While you're stuck here by yourself. I would wager you've never been bedded by a true man, Dear Heart. Much less one like me. But you are correct. I cannot tell you how to behave. I have no inkling of how scared little girls are supposed to act-"_

The next thing he'd known her lips were sealed over his own, her mouth moving feverishly over his while one of her hands traced ever so lightly down his chest. The other wound its way into his tresses, parting the thick blonde waves as her fingers moved through them. For the first two seconds he was sure he'd had some sort of stroke, that all of this was some sort of reaction to the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. And then she'd leaned into him just a bit further, her teeth nipping at his lips as she moaned to him. His hands had started roving and his mouth matched her pace then, meeting her with equal fervor as he'd tugged her closer to himself. When she parted her lips, his tongue was there; eager to taste her. When she went to withdraw, he moved to follow her. And when she pulled his bottom lip between hers, scraping it ever so slightly with her blunt little teeth as she eased back onto flat feet he hadn't been able to stop the little shiver and deep groan she drew from him. Or that his eyes were still lidded as she leaned in, nipping his jaw hard.

"_Never doubt for a second, Captain Wesker that I couldn't have or do anything I wanted. I just don't want anything to do with you. But you are right about one thing. I wouldn't know what to do with a man like you. I mean do you even know how to make a woman- a real woman and not one of your little flings cum?"_

He blinked, shocked as she stepped away and turned for the door, pulling the baggy tee shirt just a bit straighter as she smirked up at him condescendingly. Wesker had known then he'd miscalculated-severely. Even though he'd only half listened to her brother's ramblings he had still assumed-with her own awkwardness and her seemingly antisocial sunny disposition that she was damn near virginal. Apparently-from both her kiss and her whispered, mocking words he'd been mistaken.

"_I didn't think so. Let me let you in on a little secret, Dear heart__**. I**__ can . . . when you want to learn maybe I'll teach you. Otherwise keep your hands and your eyes to yourself."_

And with that, she turned on her heel; trying to leave the bedroom before he'd caught her. They'd fallen into bed after that, a flurry of mouths and limbs as they'd gotten as close as they could. Only to wake up the next morning sore, disoriented and-as soon as they'd regained enough of their sense-bickering and fighting; both of them equally mortified beyond belief.

_Not to mention what he could remember had left him fighting with himself and staying in cold showers for the entire week they'd been back. _

He shook himself, sighing as Bastian's words jarred him back to the present. Apparently he'd missed something reminiscing. Something important from the way his friend was grinning idiotically, practically beaming like some proud parent.

"Well hell Chaosia! That's great! Guess that means you're actually going to stay in Raccoon for a while huh? Are you going to resign your lease for the townhouse or are you going to look for a permanent spot?"

Chaosia shrugged, smiling at her brother as she blushed; her earlier ire seemingly gone as her brother motioned for the bartender. Waving something small and rectangular in his hand as he did so.

"I'll probably just resign for now, Bastian. I have plenty of time to worry about houses. Besides . . . I don't want to think about moving right now. Owning the lake house is enough. What are you doing?"

He grinned, turning and sliding the rectangle-a key card and ID badge on a clip-across the table to Wesker; still grinning from ear to ear. Wesker picked it up, looking over the badge before looking to Chaosia. This was her access card for the morgue as well as her ID, a new picture perfectly placed above a new title.

_One she hadn't had a week before._

"This deserves a drink! And I plan to get us one. Al, don't even think about refusing."

He raised a brow before nodding, extending it back to her with a grin. But as she went to accept it his fingers brushed against hers, her eyes shooting up to lock with his. The light blue green went wide before they narrowed, her lips tugging into a thin as she glared at him; moving to draw back from the contact. He however didn't allow her to, settling his free hand over hers; keeping her within his grasp as he spoke.

"I am impressed Dear heart. I hadn't thought you would succeed this quickly . . . Congratulations. I assume you accepted the position then?"

She nodded, her face softening even though her eyes retained some of their edge. She went to pull away again, his fingers keeping her shackled to the table; causing her to sigh in exasperation before she growled.

"Oh for the love of-would you let me go now, Captain? Or do you just get off on manhandling me?"

His face fell dangerously blank before he shrugged, his tone bored as he cut his eyes towards the bar. Bastian was busy talking, his natural exuberance and social personality working in his favor as the bartender nodded; pouring three large shots of something terribly dark. Oh God what was he going to push down his throat now?

"Do you honestly wish to know?"

Chaosia turned, her eyes landing on her brother as she groaned; shaking her head.

"No, the last night at the lake left me with more than I _**ever**_ wanted to know. Oh dear God didn't he drink enough last weekend?"

Wesker snorted, his ire with the woman momentarily dissipating as he shrugged his brows. He moved his fingers, absentmindedly caressing the side of hers as he spoke.

"Apparently not . . . does he always drink like this?"

Chaosia was still for a moment before shaking her head, her eyes tracking her brother as he talked and laughed; downing one of the shots before the barkeep filled it back up with a wink.

"No, he didn't used to. Actually before he left Atlanta he barely drank at all-I was the one that he and Khail always threatened to send to AA. But now . . . now he drinks more than I do."

She glanced back to him, her bottom lip between her teeth as she sighed. His eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the signs of her distress. And he was barely aware that his fingers hold tightened around her for a few scant seconds before she turned her eyes back to Bastian. Her voice became smaller, softer as she seemed to sag; looking worriedly after her laughing sibling.

"I worry about him . . ."

"He is an adult, Chaosia. I am sure he is aware of his limits."

She turned back, raising a brow at him before her lips tugged into a devious little smirk; her eyes twinkling mischievously. Almost maliciously.

"Just not others, right? Tell me, Captain. Just how shitfaced were you when you acted like an ass?"

He snorted, his eyes narrowing again as she chuckled. But he couldn't force the same irritation that had come so naturally before. He just didn't understand why.

"None of your concern. Though it seems that when I'm 'shitfaced' is the only time you willing brave my presence. Is my company really so unenjoyable?"

She shrugged, giving him a pointed look before sliding her hand from beneath his; her voice still distant but nowhere near as cold as it had been before. Something that he took as a sign of improvement. Since she was the new Medical Examiner it wouldn't do for her to hate him completely-seeing as in he'd actually have to deal with her office for STARS cases as well as trying to ensure Connors didn't overstep her bounds.

"I wouldn't know, Captain. Because other than the small conversation your first night and our revising session I haven't spent any time in _**your**_ company."

He raised a brow, his lips tying to tilt into a smirk as he drawled to her.

"Oh really? And who pray tell have you spent time with then if not myself?"

"Well I had to deal with this narcissistic ass that liked to push people around and act like a complete jerk. He even got mad at me for trying to apologize to someone for my own bad attitude towards their friends and sister."

Wesker stilled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. He'd had no idea that her private quiet conversation had actually been her apologizing. And suddenly her attitude-or lack of tolerance for his made sense. He sighed, resting his elbows on the table as he linked his fingers together; resting his chin on his hands.

"My . . . sounds positively dreadful. How did you ever survive?"

She rolled her eyes, giving him a reprimanding look before shaking her head. But she took his sarcasm as it was intended instead of being offended, merely looking to him in exasperation.

"By dousing my brain in alcohol apparently. And we all saw how wonderful that went."

Wesker chuckled, glancing to Bastian as he finally pushed away from the bar; moving to the table with the shots balanced precariously in his fingers, weaving between the steadily growing crowd. He eased back into his seat, his eyes roaming over her face before he dipped his chin to her. What he was about to do was unprecedented but he needed to. If he didn't then all of his attempts to have the girl accredited would be pointless.

Besides, it might not be so bad to have her actually tolerate him. She was proving to be far different from most of the women he associated with of his own freewill. No wonder her brothers were insane.

"I apologize then, Dear heart. For subjecting you to such taxing circumstances."

Chaosia shrugged, looking to Bastian before groaning. She glanced back to him, shaking her head with a smirk as she turned to her brother; her voice rising as she teased him.

"Don't worry, Captain. No one was on their best behavior so we'll call it even. Water under the bridge as it were. What in the hell is this, sot?"

Bastian grinned, sliding both of them the shot. Correction: the dark, sludgy shot that positively reeked. Wesker looked up to Chaosia as she curled her nose at the brew, her plump lips turned up in a grimace as she picked the drink up. She held it out, eying it skeptically when absolutely no light penetrated the dark liquid. Her brother however was undeterred, picking his own back up and raising it; the volume of his voice increasing as he laughed.

"Just shut up and drink it, brat. It won't kill you. To Raccoon City's new assistant Medical Examiner and viral pathologist."

Wesker and Chaosia shared a look before knocking back the drink, both visibly cringing at the bitter taste as Bastian sank back into the booth. Acting like he'd just consumed water instead of whatever foul creation he'd forced down their throats. Chaosia sputtered, covering her mouth as Wesker fought to keep his gag reflex under control.

"Oh c'mon! It wasn't _**that**_ bad! Now hurry up and pick something to eat. We still have to drop by the morgue before we go back to work."

Chaosia turned, her eyes suspicious as narrowed them; cutting her gaze over the table top to him. Wesker however nodded, giving her a deadpan look as he answered her unvoiced question.

"He's right. Apparently Chief Irons wanted me to formally meet the new Assistant Medical Examiner before returning to today's meetings. Something about how Connors barely lets him in the door without threatening to-"

"Bag and tag him. Yeah. She's not his biggest fan- by any means. But you've already met me, Captain."

He grinned, shrugging his brows as the waitress came to take their order; handing each of them tall glasses of ice water while they waited.

"Ah yes. But not officially. Doctor Shaw."

He turned, handing the waitress his menu before shrugging again; giving her a smirk. She flouted, crossing her arms as she sighed; shaking her head tiredly.

"Why are you doing this to me? I accepted your apology what else do you want?"

He looked her over, his smirk falling for a second before returning; his thoughts turning from Irons decree to Spencer's. To fully integrate himself within as much as he could; to build and utilize the relationships around him to ensure his success. He nodded to her, feeling nowhere near as repentant as he sounded. Because he was sure-with how everything was working between them-that he would eventually get to reap the benefits of forging a relationship with her.

_Even if it turned out to be just professionally._

"Orders are orders, Dear heart. Orders are orders."


	3. Chapter 3

_****Warnings: some very minor gore and lots of bad language._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Consent<strong>_

_July 1996_

Chaosia growled, all but shoving the ruined gloves into the trash. That was the seventh pair she'd snapped today . . . and the way it was looking she would be snapping even more before it was over with. She turned, grabbing the chart to make her corrections. The idiots from first shift had almost fucked this up completely. And now she and Connors were stuck trying to fix the mistakes on top of taking on the new autopsies.

_Meaning they were slammed and damn near dead. _

And apparently so was her fucking pen. She threw the pen into the trash, pushing out and into the hallway before moving into the other large cold room. God hopefully she would find a fucking pen that would work! And then maybe she could go ahead and get the rest of her shit done before she went home. She rummaged around the countertop, picking up several pens and testing them before she found one that would at least make a decipherable mark. It wasn't perfect but it would do for now.

She turned, pushing back out into the hall before trying not to groan as she looked up and spotted Captain Wesker rounding the corner. The STARS commander was deep in conversation with her boss but she knew that wouldn't last long. Just like she knew the second he saw her he would start pestering her.

_**Again.**_

Wasn't it bad enough that she'd already had to listen to Bastian talk her ear off for almost a solid hour about how great it was that he'd gone out with the Captain the night before? Which had pretty much been his subtle attempt to goad her into accepting their next invitation and she knew it. Something she wouldn't be doing any time soon, so long as Wesker continued to be smug and aggravating. She'd put as much distance between herself and the stoic blonde as she could before she'd snapped at him but it still hadn't eased her irritation with the man. Actually all she earned was Bastian's wrath next to Wesker's.

_God why had he ever decided he wanted to be friends with the weirdo again? _

If she'd known that accepting his apology was going to open her up to this; she would've stabbed him with a fork or something. She sighed, running a hand over her face. Okay so going out with the man at her 'celebration lunch' hadn't been as bad as she'd thought it would be . . . but therein laid the problem. She couldn't get too attached or involved with Wesker without him getting even deeper under her skin. And when all of this was said and done-his momentary fascination or curiosity with her sated- she knew he wasn't going to continue any form of relationship with her. Hell, he'd probably never see her again outside of work! So she needed to distance herself from him for her own safety.

She'd had her share of casual relationships but she could see the danger here. Wesker wasn't just someone who was attractive or even mildly interesting. He was one of her brother's friends-hell his fucking boss- and he shared far more of her interests than any other person she'd met. He didn't think her locking herself away to research and study was odd-he'd told her that during his own graduate studies he'd been prone to doing the same. And he didn't seem to mind the fact that she worked in the morgue.

Which were part of the reasons a small portion of her wanted to see what could happen between them. And if he was really as good as the drunken kisses and blurry memories from the last night on the lake made her think.

She growled, slamming the chart down on the slab as soon as she was inside the autopsy room.

She didn't need to think like that. And she should be thankful that their idiocy hadn't burned either of them. Because she'd been about ready to make an ass of herself; and a liar out of her brother. People who wanted to date-generally- didn't hop in bed on the first night. One night stands did. And she'd seen for herself just how he discarded those. She snorted; she wasn't stupid . . . she knew something was off about it all-about him and his interest in her- she just didn't know what.

Chaosia sighed, bracing herself on the table before turning to go grab an attendant to put the room to rights. And ran right into the source of most of her recent problems. Christ she hadn't even heard him come in! Wesker caught her, steadying her as she glared at him; suddenly feeling self-conscious about her appearance. She'd come in to a nasty first case-the body nearly destroyed beyond recognition with copious amounts of blood and bodily fluids leaking everywhere. Which had led to her having to change into a set of scrubs and one of Connor's spare labcoats. She sighed as she looked at him from behind the black thick rimmed glasses she wore for work, trying not to grimace at the raised brow he'd turned on her.

"What do you need Captain?'

He sighed, letting his hands fall from her arms as she took a step back; his voice softer than she usually heard it.

"Just stopping to check in Dr. Shaw. Though I can see it was a mistake. Your brother mentioned you were . . . rather struggling to convert the physical files to digital. I had intended to offer for Vickers to assist your office. Dr. Connors just wanted me to clear it with you first-seeing as you are apparently the archive director as of four weeks ago."

Chaosia stilled, blinking as she felt her cheeks start to burn. She reached up, tugging her glasses off and pushing them into her hair; trying not to grimace as a large section of her curls started to fall around the frames. She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, nodding to him as she looked up him through her lashes.

"Oh . . . well uh-that would be wonderful, Captain. I would appreciate that."

She turned, only making a step before he stopped her; his fingers barely touching her arm.

"Wait . . . I know. I know this must seem terribly forward- or as it stands backward but would you . . . like to accompany me to lunch? I've heard-your brother says great things about Grayson Deli and I've yet to try it."

She stilled, looking at him before she shook her head. There wasn't any way he was asking her to a lunch date-not with the way she'd shot him down every single time he'd tried to talk to her in the past month. And even if he was she needed to say no. She needed to make sure she didn't land back in bed with him after all. Because she doubted her brothers' sanity would last if she let that happen . . . or if either of them found out about the first time.

"Look, I'm actually going to be lucky to eat at all today-what with how swamped we are. And if I do I'm ordering out tonight so-"

He nodded, looking almost crestfallen before she sighed. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, taking a step back towards the door.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I had no clue. I won't keep you then. What time do you wish Vickers to report tomorrow?"

She watched him turn away, moving deliberately towards the door when she sighed. She knew she was going to hate herself for this but what the hell. She needed to eat anyway, right? She nodded, reaching out to stop him.

"Look . . . I can't tonight but maybe another time?"

He perked, looking at her with hopeful skepticism. And she almost felt bad for refusing him the three other times . . . until he opened his mouth. His lips tugged to the side in a smug smirk as he raised a brow at her.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Dear heart?"

She nodded, giving him a warning look as she crossed her arms. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, trying not to snap at him.

"Don't make me change my mind, Captain. I'm not quite sure why I'm agreeing to this to begin with."

He looked her over before his eyes darkened, turning almost insulted before he seemed to gather himself. Then he turned on the charm, giving her a come hither smile as he laughed.

"You wound me, Chaosia. In the time since we returned from the lake you've barely given me the time of day-so to speak. When all I've wanted to get to know _**you**_ better. Maybe even see if you'd willingly tolerate going to dinner one night. Seeing as in we became so intimately acquainted while on our holiday."

She stopped, turning to look at him in shock before she opened her mouth; floundering as she tried to figure out something to say. He grinned, chuckling at her darkly as he stepped forward; extending his arm to her.

"Oh my, I've rendered you speechless. Well, I'll take advantage of that and leave you to your work. Wouldn't want you to miss your next patient now would we?"

She looked to him, tugging her glasses down over her eyes as she sighed; shaking her head. He took a step towards the door, giving her an almost smug look as she chided him.

"Ha ha. Just send Officer Vickers at the beginning of his shift. Dr. Connors will be here so she can start him in the right direction. And do make it a priority to keep just how well we're acquainted to yourself."

He grinned, waiting until she'd turned to reach out and catch her attention; extending his hand to her as she went to step back towards her table. She raised a brow but took it, blushing as he brushed his lips over her knuckles.

"Of course, Dear heart. I would hate to sully your reputation so early. I will call you tomorrow."

She inwardly flinched at the now familiar endearment; something about the way he used it here setting off warnings in her head. She looked him over, trying to figure out why when he ran his thumb over her knuckles again. Giving her a warm, almost earnest grin. She raised a brow.

"_Dear heart? _Really? Why do you keep calling me that?"

He blinked, seeming slightly off balance at the question before he grinned; laughing at her. He tugged her closer, still running his thumb over her knuckles.

"Yes . . . well it's a rather, well I suppose archaic is the best thing to call it way of saying darling. People use the term entirely wrong these days . . . myself included. It doesn't offend you . . . does it? I do not mean any insult with it, I promise. Only endearment."

She shook her head slowly, slightly stunned before she blushed at the meaning behind it. Trying not to let the fact that he'd been steadily calling her that for over a month now influence her in anyway. She shook herself, slowly extracting her hand from his as his grin fell. She still didn't understand what was going on here-why he kept after her even though they'd already fucked. But she wasn't going to lie about not being interested in finding out.

Besides, if he kept seeking her out; openly pursuing her then that had to stand for something . . _**. right?**_

* * *

><p>Wesker moved through the halls of the morgue, trying to keep from gritting his teeth. He couldn't believe the lengths he was having to go to just to ensure that the girl didn't automatically label him an enemy. And all because he'd let himself be careless, becoming so damned intoxicated that he had no longer been in control of his own impulses. Or his own body.<p>

But despite his own anger at his foolishness he was almost as angry with her. Something about the way she had looked up at him made his blood boil. Like she couldn't decide whether to be happy or cautious; to run to him or from him. He sighed, reaching up and pushing his hair back; shaking his head to him himself. Allowing some of his doubts to surface as he stepped out and into the warm summer night.

_Christ this was never going to work. _

He took his glasses off, rubbing his tired eyes before he moved towards his car. The logical side of his brain kept telling him he shouldn't be mad at her but he was. He'd gotten into it with William almost as soon as the sun had risen, the nearly hour long argument putting him in a sour mood. Then he'd gotten to the precinct to find not only had he left his keys at home- meaning he had to be buzzed in to every fucking room and kept getting locked out- but that Irons had decided to deploy Bravo on another pointless errand. One in which Enrico Marini had been grazed by a bullet-meaning he would be out three days until he was cleared to return- which had infuriated him even further. And now here he was, holding his sunglasses as he stalked towards the Mercedes; trying to anticipate just how Chaosia would react to his call in mere hours.

She was always so damned paranoid when it came to him, never fully relaxing unless she had alcohol in hand-something her brother had informed him the night before she was cutting back on. He rolled his eyes, pulling his keys from his pocket before clipping his glasses to his vest; trying not to snort. Like she had any reason to be afraid of him; her even insinuating such made his blood boil. Especially since she'd probably become a hassle like every other woman he'd ever dealt with-given enough time.

So what if he wasn't going to do anything but use her to keep an eye on her boss and the happenings within the morgue? So he wasn't as interested as he acted-though he would be remiss to deny he wasn't damn near eager to see if she was any better sexually when she was sober- there was no reason for her to look at him like that. He hadn't given her one . . . not since they'd come back from Arklay.

_**None**__ whatsoever._

_But_-the little voice in the back of his head whispered, the darker part of his mind slithering to the surface as he unlocked the Mercedes_- she can see how uninterested you were before. She's just cautious because she knows you can hurt her-hurt her brother. And what more is you know you are going to . . . You are going to get close- tear it all down after you have what you want. Why should she not be afraid of that? Of you? _

He took in a deep breath, trying not to growl as he slammed the car door, starting the engine. He moved, going to put the car in gear when his cell buzzed; alerting him to the incoming call. He sighed, pulling the offending device from his pocket before raising a brow.

_Why was he calling him?_

He hit the button, pulling the thing to his ear as he fought another growl. God today just wouldn't end fast enough.

"What William?"

"_Wow, are you __**that**__ angry with me? I figured after you got to __**parade**__ through __**STARS **__you would be right as rain. Considering __**that's**__ where you __**want**__ to be now."_

He sighed, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to continue when William cut him off, his voice losing its edge and bitterness as he sighed into the phone heavily.

"_I-shit I'm sorry Al. I didn't mean that. It's just been hellacious trying to work on this right here lately. Spencer wants updates almost __**constantly**__ and he's starting to push harder for results. And I know you're under a ton of stress with everything going on-with your assignment but I can't help but wonder if my lab wouldn't be running smoother if you were in it with me."_

He paused before continuing, Wesker able to hear traces of the same paranoia he'd heard when Alexia had surpassed him. He raised a brow, listening closely. His friend was stressed . . . meaning that G was close to another breakthrough. And William was going to run himself ragged until he reached it.

"_Hell, I have to do most my work at home now just to get something done. It's like the others are incompetent! Like they want me to fucking fail or-"_

"William when did you last sleep?"

There was a long pause before Birkin finally answered him, his voice almost timid and embarrassed. So much so that Wesker could see him blushing, scratching the side of his nose sheepishly as he rolled from spot to spot in his office listlessly. God Annette was supposed to be babysitting him, to prevent something like this from happening again.

"_Uh . . . wow. Almost four days. I just can't get my brain to stop."_

Wesker sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest as he tried not to curse. God he couldn't do everything!

"Go to sleep William. We will discuss everything else after you recover your senses. Not until."

"_Okay, Al. I'll make sure not to be crabby at lunch tomorrow. Are we still going to Deliviani?"_

Wesker raised a brow before answering. He didn't relish having to do this but he would. Hopefully Birkin would be too exhausted to put up much of a fight.

"I am not going to be able to make it tomorrow."

The other researcher whined into the phone, Wesker chuckling to himself in spite of how aggravating it was. It was almost like William had regressed to his sixteen year old self, his voice actually cracking as he spoke. God the man needed sleep or he was going to cross breed Ebola with salmonella-again.

"_But __**why?**__ We always eat on Wednesdays. You eat with your other friend on Thursday-"_

"I have a date, William. One important to my assignment. And I will tell you everything tomorrow. Now go to sleep."

"_***SIGH* **__Fine Al. I'm going."_

He waited until the phone clicked off before he let himself breathe, shaking his head as his smile fell. William was being pushed just as hard as he was . . . but the question was why? What was Spencer's aim in all of this-what could he possibly gain? He shook his head putting the car in gear as he started towards his home. God it was days like this one that he almost wished he'd stayed in the fucking labs.

_Because the only date he'd ever had to invest so much effort into facilitating-up until this point- was William's first outing with Annette._


	4. Chapter 4

**Luncheon**

_July 1996_

Chaosia raised a brow as she followed Wesker out of the Raccoon Police Department and into the parking garage, trying to keep her curiosity at bay as he stayed a few steps ahead of her. She had no idea what had made her accept the man's lunch invitation-especially since she'd turned down every other attempt he'd made - but she finally had. And now she was walking behind him to get to his car.

_Because he'd been adamant about her meeting him at the precinct and the two of them taking his car. _

She rolled her eyes as they stopped in front of the decrepit lift, trying not to snort as she remembered their very brief conversation on the phone this morning. He'd finally cornered her at the morgue the day before, telling her that he was sending one of his more technologically capable officers to help digitize their files. But as at odds as that had put her, his lunch invitation had made her even more confused; his persistence in tracking her down finally wearing on her last nerve. She'd realized-after she'd gotten home from work-that he wasn't going to stop pestering her until she agreed. And that the sooner she said yes then the sooner she could actually get some semblance of peace at work.

So even though she'd known she could definitely outlast him in the patience department if she'd really wanted to- a literal cake walk for her with two brothers like Bastian and Khail- she'd agreed to let him call her at home this morning to set the terms for the lunch. Though she'd never expected the the phone to ring at 6:15 am; causing her to fumble before finally answering it. Burying her face in her pillow as she let her irritation at being woken up color her voice while he'd chuckled.

"_I swear to God someone had better be dead or whoever this is will be."_

"_My, my. Now is that anyway to greet someone, Dear Heart? I know your brother taught you better."_

She'd lifted her head from the silk covered down long enough to raise a brow at the phone before she'd blindly reached for her watch. Groaning as she'd deciphered the time before flopping back into her covers, slinging an arm over her eyes in a desperate attempt to block the light shining in through her drapes. Though with the ungodly hour she knew it was probably from a streetlamp and not the actual sun.

_It had enough damn sense to still be asleep. Unlike Albert Wesker._

"_What do you want Captain?"_

He'd chuckled over the line again, the sound grating on her nerves far more than it normally did. Had he seriously called her at the asscrack of dawn to chit-chat? Because if he had he was going to die a slow painful death. Hell, Redfield would help her hide his body. But he'd spoken again, making her groan all over again. God how had she forgotten?

"_To inform you to meet me at RPD Precinct 13 at a quarter till noon. I've rearranged a meeting with Chief Irons to ensure I have plenty of time for lunch."_

She'd raised a brow before rolling her eyes, nodding as she'd yawned into her pillow; her eyes already drifting closed again. She hadn't gotten to leave until well after three in the morning the night before . . . and she'd just been praying then that she would be able to get back to sleep. Or Albert Wesker was going to get with her even bitchier than normal. Though he honestly seemed to enjoy riling her up so he would probably just grin and keep harassing her.

_Like a schoolboy with a crush._

"_Uh-huh. Sure, sure. At the station at 11:45. Got it. Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"_

"_It's a surprise Dear Heart. But I assure you it will be well worth the wait."_

She'd rolled her eyes again, shifting to lie on her stomach as she fought back another yawn. God he was damn right chatty today. She nodded, letting her eyes close as she spoke; not caring that she sounded as awake as she was. Which was barely.

"_Damn. How will I live_ -_***YAWN***_- _with the suspense?"_

He'd snorted over the phone and she could swear she heard him roll his eyes behind his sunglasses. Which he was probably already wearing . . . Mental note: ask why he wears the damn things at lunch.

"_You'll manage, I'm sure. Were you still asleep?"_

"_Yeah. I was gifted with half of an extra shift yesterday. And before you start lecturing me about being lazy I've only been home since 3:30 and asleep since about 4:00. Why can't you just tell me where to meet you? So you'll have more time to eat?"_

"_I am Captain of STARS, Dear Heart. I can take a longer lunch if I want . . . and considering I usually don't take one there shouldn't be an issue concerning time. Just be sure to be punctual. And Chaosia?"_

She'd jolted awake, fighting to keep her eyes open as she answered.

"_Yes Wesker?"_

"_Wear something . . . nice. I'll see you soon."_

Chaosia shook herself as the doors parted, stepping inside right behind the quiet Captain. He reached in front of her as she settled against the side wall, clicking the button for the third floor before he leaned against the wall beside her. They rode the elevator up, her eyes watching the floor numbers light then fall dark as they got closer to their destination. When the light for the second floor went dark however Wesker spoke, jolting her from her thoughts as she jerked her head to look at him incredulously.

Had this really been all that her coming here had been about?

"I must admit you look stunning. Divine actually. I believe that Irons nearly swallowed his tongue when you walked in."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to keep herself under control. Because she doubted he would let her sock him the way Bastian did. But when he turned to look at her, his glasses sliding down his nose as he smirked she felt her patience start to thin. She took in a calming breathe, trying to collect herself.

"Are you telling me that the entire reason you wanted me to come to the precinct was so Irons could see me?"

Wesker's blue eyes moved over her, making her blush as his smirk darkened. He shrugged his brows at her, turning to look back at the doors as the light for three fizzled to life.

"Partly. But in the interest of full disclosure it was more a case of morbid curiosity."

She raised a brow, all of her anger and irritation fading as she looked up at him in confusion. She blinked, watching him push away from the wall to hold the door for her; extending his arm in invitation as she tried to figure out what was going on. She took his arm, looping hers through his before hesitantly placing her hand on his bicep.

"Curiosity about what?"

He glanced back to her as they moved leisurely through the pylons and supports, navigating the fairly empty deck with no real sense of urgency. And as he spoke again Chaosia realized something crucial. In the month since they'd gotten back from the mountains Wesker hadn't continued to treat her as he had the night they'd gotten drunk. He'd been openly talking-though mostly arguing with her about their shared interests even when they both knew it irritated Khail and Bastian to no end. But he'd never been like this, so openly well forward.

_Mentioning their drunken hookup-in private-yes, blatantly lacing ever word with innuendo no._

"About how you would look in something other than your suites and sweaters, Dr. Shaw."

She felt her cheeks flush dark and hot as she ducked her head, terribly upset with herself over how affected by his words she was. She was a doctor three times over now, not some school girl with a new potential boyfriend. She shook herself, stopping just behind a pristine Mercedes as she glared up at him. He stilled beside her, brow raised over the dark lenses of his sunglasses as she went to pull her hand free. Only to growl when he refused to release her.

"Seriously? Are we really back to this?"

His brows shrugged and she knew he'd just rolled his eyes, something she'd noticed he was prone to when he thought no one was looking. And she had a sneaking suspicion that she'd just figured out part of his reason for wearing the damned things all the time. No one could know that you weren't an emotionless block of ice if they couldn't see your eyes.

"Why must you always be so difficult? Any other woman would be thrilled to receive such a compliment. Or to be pursued openly by someone in an affluent position; or to be whisked away to lunch. But you make it seem as though I am plotting to sacrifice you on an altar."

"Because you're being an ass. And with you how am I supposed to know I'm not some lamb to slaughter? If this is how you're going to act then I refuse to go."

He moved, stepping back towards her; dipping at the waist to look at her over his glasses.

"You _**are**_ going, Chaosia. I have already made the reservations and I refuse to cancel because you're intent to carry on with another childish display of immaturity."

She kept his gaze, refusing to back down as they glared at one another. After a few tense moments she rolled her eyes, reaching up and flicking him in the forehead. _**Hard.**_ Wesker flinched, moving back as she fought the urge to laugh; biting her lip. His glasses had slid down his nose, exposing the pretty blue eyes she preferred to see as he looked at her incredulously.

"What in the hell was that for?"

He collected himself, glaring at her as he opened his mouth to speak. Only to stutter-actually fucking stutter- when she reached up and took hold of his coveted glasses. Sliding them off and folding them neatly before depositing them in her purse. He blinked, looking her over in confusion before she sighed; reaching up to-lightly- trace from the spot she'd hit down to his right cheek with her fingertips.

"For being an ass. I don't know who or what kind of women you've dealt with before but I personally resent being treated like some kind of idiot that can be ordered around. Or like a whore. We've already covered that we slept together Albert. I'm not holding that _**mistake** _against you so do me the same courtesy."

She licked her suddenly dry lips, keeping his gaze as she continued. But he was still looking at her like she was insane. And she suddenly wondered just how often Albert Wesker got told no?

"I have just as many doctorates as you do now, Captain. And while I'm not as old as you are that doesn't make me stupid. We've carried on several conversations that prove otherwise. So I would appreciate it if you didn't behave that way. I'm not your subordinate-"

* * *

><p>Wesker felt his glare hardened as he went to move away from her, Chaosia's hand settling on his skin the only thing that stopped him. He turned his eyes from her, his lip curling in a snarl. He'd already put up with enough shit from Irons-and listened to William whine over him cancelling their lunch plans- that seeing her act this way was enough to enrage him.<p>

He'd argued with Irons over the man dispatching his Bravo team to deal with a minor traffic accident, telling the incompetent ass that his squad was a trained Special Tactics And Rescue Service. They were trained to deal with the situations that SWAT and the other departments couldn't handle; not help direct traffic because he didn't want to allocate other officers to do so.

_Especially since the last time he'd done so Marini had ended up shot._

He'd stormed from the meeting and back into the STARS division, uncaring that Irons was following him-still bitching- as he'd tried to get to his office. Only to stop stunned; nearly swallowing his own tongue at what was waiting on him. Apparently Chaosia had taken his partial teasing concerning her punctuality to heart; coming to the precinct earlier than she was supposed to-without calling to inform him. And she'd headed his desire for her to dress nicely.

She was wearing a pale dusky blue pencil dress with a sweetheart bodice, the fabric wrapping and molding to her figure. She'd donned a bone grey fitted blazer and matching satin peep toe stilettos; the light colors making her skin seem incredibly dark and rich. Simple platinum and aquamarine chandelier earrings and a huge diamond cocktail ring glittered in the light while her makeup was done classically; her glossy pink lips spread in a bashful smile as she laughed with Bastian and Speyer.

When she'd turned to him her grin had softened enough to make her brother grunt and roll his eyes; crossing his arms as he'd watched her cross to him. She'd stopped just shy of touching him, her eyes moving over him before she'd glanced back at Irons. A brow raised as he pushed past him to extend his hand to her.

"_Why Dr. Shaw. What a pleasant surprise. You're here to see your brother I gather?"_

Chaosia had looked at his hand like it was toxic before she'd caught herself, shaking the offered appendage loosely as she'd given him a professional grin. And Wesker had admitted to himself that her little quip almost made the three hour argument worth it. She'd glanced up to him, her smile darkening to damn near sinister as she'd spoken. And even though Bastian seemed about ready to stroke Speyer was staring after her like a rapt idiot.

"_Actually I was just on my way to collect Albert. He was almost late for lunch."_

Wesker shook himself, fighting the urge to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose. God this was a mistake. Every single time he'd tried to accomplish anything with this girl it always backfired, her refusing or moving away just as he'd thought he was laying enough groundwork to progress. He hadn't had to work this hard to get anything in years. At least since he hit puberty.

"If its so horrible to be in my presence then leave-"

She sighed in frustration, laying her other hand over his mouth; looking up to him almost pleadingly as she stepped closer. And he was suddenly aware that she was nearly pressed completely against him, their chests almost touching as her eyes bore into his. She shook her head, her tongue darting out to wet her lips again before she spoke.

But her words threw him for a loop. He didn't like to admit it but she was the first woman who'd ever spoken freely with him like this. All of his lovers and partners had just let him do as he pleased . . . so long as he was showering them in faux praise or spending ungodly amounts of money on them. Actually the only women he even talked to-other than her-were Valentine and Wong. And from what he was seeing neither counted. Valentine deferred to him because of his position and Wong used him just as much as he used her-oh sure he got more out of it with her spying and scheming than she did but he seriously doubted she knew that.

"Its not horrible, Captain. But I don't want to deal with all of this-this _posturing_ you have to do for work. I want to spend time with _**you,**_ Albert. Not Captain Wesker of STARS or even Dr Wesker of the lab you refuse to tell me about. I just want to get to know _**you.**_ Okay? You said you wanted the same . . . and it isn't impossible for us to become friendly-even after the other."

He looked her over before nodding, damning the consequences as he caught her face in his hands; slanting his mouth over hers hungrily. She gasped against his lips before she moved, her arms linking around his neck as she kissed him back. And Wesker had to admit that this was better than any of their other-albeit drunken- kisses. She tasted sweeter, and the throaty little moan she gave sounded so much more rewarding.

She eased back from him, her cheeks bright red as she looked up at through her lashes. And Wesker decided that he would attempt to fulfill her request. At least for today. He pressed his forehead to hers, tucking her curls behind her ear as his thumb traced her cheek.

"As you wish, Dear Heart. But I am informing you now; I will not be content with merely being friendly."

Her eyes searched his before she sighed, stretching up and ghosting her lips over his; lingering for just a second before she pulled away.

"Well I'm informing you, Mr. Wesker that you'd better be content to be friendly first. At least until after we see if the first date is worth anything."

She looked up at him bashfully, her lips spreading into a tiny wry grin as she stepped back.

"Speaking of which . . . are you really taking me to lunch? Because if you are then we need to get to your car."

Wesker grinned, watching her step towards the Mercedes parked behind them when he called out; enjoying the way she looked up at him in confusion. He was finding that he loved keeping her on her toes. Especially when she looked so damned . . . cute when she was trying to keep up with him.

"What? Isn't this your car? Bastian said you drove a Mercedes-"

He sighed, shaking his head as he wound his arm over her shoulders; leading her away from the gleaming dark blue car. He wasn't going to tell her that Bastian had been right. He did own a brand new Mercedes LE . . . but the car that he'd brought out for today was his favorite. He just didn't usually get the opportunity to drive it.

He pushed her towards the back parking spots, grinning darkly as he hit the unlock button on his keyfob; causing the lights of the black 96 Jaguar XJ220 to flash. Chaosia stopped, looking back at him as he nodded; moving to open the door for her as she spoke.

"You drive this? Seriously?"

He nodded, holding the door for her to sink into the seat. She grinned up at him, nodding as he smirked down at her.

"There's much more to me than what your brother tells you, Dear Heart."

She rolled her eyes before laughing, shrugging her brows at him playfully as she secured her seat belt.

"Well hopefully I'll actually get to see some of that."

He nodded sagely, keeping his face blank as he responded; closing the door as Chaosia groaned and shook her head.

"We'll have to see, Dear Heart."

He stepped around the back of the car, flicking his keys over his fingers as he moved quickly. He had no idea what was going to happen but he sure that today was definitely going to be an interesting day. He slid down and into the plush leather, bringing the engine roaring to life. As he backed out of the spot and moved to navigate the way down to the main street he was pleasantly surprised when Chaosia reached out and laid her hand over his on the shifter; lacing her fingers through his he found that he really didn't mind the sweet little gesture.

And as they pulled out and into traffic Albert Wesker discovered that he might actually learn to enjoy having to forge a true-if only partial relationship with someone.

_ If they didn't kill one another first._


	5. Chapter 5

_****I own nothing but my OCs._

_**Affirmation**_

_July 1996_

Chaosia sat across from Wesker at the small table, picking halfheartedly at the salad she'd ordered on a whim. She really wasn't hungry but she knew she needed to eat before she went home to try and sleep . . . even if the thought didn't appeal to her as much as it should. She'd pulled almost twenty one hours in the morgue and hadn't been free over two. She needed to eat . . . but her eyes didn't want to stay open. She sighed, moving a grape tomato a little further over the bed of spinach and romaine, trying not to let her disinterest or exhaustion be so blatantly obvious. But the second she heard her tablemate's cutlery clink against his plate she knew she'd failed.

A few moments later a hand caught her free wrist, a silent command and reprimand even as his voice carried to her; seemingly concerned. She knew better though. This was their fourth meal together in two weeks, in a restaurant she had picked not even two days ago and loved. And here she was fighting to stay awake.

"Dear heart?"

She sighed again, forcing her eyes up to his; trying not to grimace at her reflection in his sunglasses. The upper layers of her hair were still pulled back from work, letting the thick curls fall over her shoulders while the rest was barely contained in the clip Cynthia had given her between procedures. Her makeup was long gone-washed off a little over five hours ago when the heat of the offices and hallways had become unbearable.

Of all the weeks for Raccoon City to be hit by a late season heat wave it had to be the one week the main air-conditioning unit for the morgue died a horrible death. Oh sure the actual cold rooms were all on separate smaller units but the offices, locker rooms, lobbies and halls were all on the main. And at last check standing in at about 99˚F . . . and that was at eight o'clock at night.

Chaosia shook herself, sighing again as she nodded to him; fighting back a yawn.

"I'm fine, Albert. Just tired. And ready to wash this sweaty rat's nest i call hair."

He sighed, reaching out and tugging her hair free; the action letting her feel just how much of it was still damp with sweat. She winced, cringing before she groaned and moved to pull it back up. But he stopped her, looping his fingers through hers and bringing her hands back down to rest on the cream linen tablecloth. She blinked, looking to him like he was crazy as he smirked; the bare tilt to the side of his mouth the only indicator that he was enjoying her displeasure.

Until he spoke of course; because she doubted he could keep the goading teasing edge from his voice if he tried.

"Leave it, Chaosia. Its fine . . . actually it looks _**better** _down."

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she refused to comment; letting herself relax as he kept her hands in his. His thumbs and fingers started to slowly-gently work the tight and aching muscles in her hands, rubbing soothing circles over her tired flesh as she all but melted. She knew it was a small thing to go all doe eyed over but it showed how well he actually knew what she did to do this. Her brothers and previous lovers never could understand why her hands would occasionally hurt and ache from over use.

But Albert, Mr. Biogenetics and Virology knew for himself just how badly overworking your hands could hurt. Hell it was part of the reason-she was sure-he had such a tight grip and damn near inhuman dexterity. He'd worked in a lab, done experiments and necropsies; his hands had hurt after long days too.

She squeezed his hands lightly, giving him a thankful smile before trying to pull away; suddenly uncomfortable with the level of intimacy the little action was fostering. She knew he hadn't meant it any other way but practically but still . . . It was too sweet, too something unlike him for her to let it continue. He however kept her hands in his, though he stopped rubbing them in favor of just keeping her caged.

She sighed, her eyes cutting up to lock on his-or her estimation of where his were behind the glasses. She was too tired, too hot and nasty and just damn irritable to play head games with him tonight. He hadn't even asked her to start seeing him in any capacity other than an occasional lunch-and-dinner-companion; blatantly refusing to call any of their outings to this point a date. He didn't need to hold her hands and try to be all sweet and send her a million mixed messages -again.

"What are you _**doing**_, Albert?"

He stilled, his whole demeanor changing before her eyes even though she couldn't point out a single thing to mark it. Nothing on him changed but it was like the air, the energy around them had just turned frigid. And even though his voice was still damn near pleasant she could hear just the barest hint of indignation coloring it.

"Apparently something that has made you uncomfortable in my presence. _**Again.**_"

Chaosia closed her eyes, wetting her lips before she sighed heavily. And when she opened her eyes Albert was looking off to the side, his head turned enough to let her see his eyes moving behind his glasses as he searched for something. But worried her was the way they were narrowed. She stilled, watching him pull one of his hands away to wave down the waiter; asking for a box for her salad and the check.

When he turned back to her his demeanor was the same, still clipped and anxious. Something that continued even after the waiter had boxed and bagged her meal. And collected the bill and returned Albert's card. When he stood he still motioned for her to hand him her bag; he still took her lightweight coat and walked closely behind her. But he didn't place his hand on the small of her back the way he had before. He didn't lean down to whisper in her ear at the door when he held it for her and he didn't try to carry on another awkward conversation as they made their way to the car.

God for a month all she'd wanted was for him to leave her alone and now that he was she just wanted him to speak. Meaning they were both in trouble-him for letting such a small thing as her bad mood make him pout and sulk and her because she noticed; because she cared that she was being snubbed.

* * *

><p>When they reached the Mercedes Wesker opened the door for Chaosia, moving the seat to set her salad in the backseat-hopefully where it wouldn't spill out everywhere and all over his damned car. Because the last thing he wanted to do was figure out how to get strawberry balsamic vinaigrette out of his upholstery. He sighed, setting everything to rights before he threw his jacket to the other side; trying to keep his temper in check.<p>

He knew she was tired and weary from work. Just like he knew that she had been in the oven that damned Coroner's Office had become for almost a full day with just a few hour nap and hadn't been able to leave. But he still couldn't stop himself from being angry with her. He'd met her at work, swooping her up and out before she'd had the chance to lock herself away in her home. He'd attempted to feed her-though with the relatively untouched salad in his backseat he'd just wasted his money- and had tried to make her relax.

And she'd _**snapped**_ at him. For fucking _**touching**_ her.

He growled under his breath, shaking his head. He'd known better than to do this but he'd wanted to see her, had willingly sought her out for no other reason than her company. And now he was going to have to leave her and go straight to his meeting with Ada; angry and disgruntled. He stilled, gathering himself before he turned; ready to ensure that he could at least maintain some sort of civility with the woman even though she'd effectively slapped him in the face.

But as he opened his mouth to speak the world shifted. Chaosia wrapped her arms around his neck, slanting her mouth across his aggressively; her tongue pushing his lips as she stretched as tall as she could. He dipped at the waist, feeling her hold on him solidify as her feet eased back to the ground; his mouth opening to her as she whimpered to him. And Albert suddenly found that he was no longer as upset.

His hands moved, one grabbing her hip hard as the other wound in her curls; the dampness she'd fretted over before no true issue as he fisted his hand in her hair. Finally after a few moments she pulled away from him, her lips kissing a trail over his jaw and cheek to his ear as she whispered to him. And Wesker found himself hoping she made as many mistakes as she possibly could. Because if this was how she apologized he knew he would never fail to forgive her-eventually.

"I'm sorry, Albert. I didn't mean to snap. I just- We don't_**-*sigh***_ forgive me?"

He nodded, shuddering involuntarily as he felt her lips spread into a smile against his skin; the sensation jarring him to the very core. He remembered that feeling . . . or more to the point what had happened almost directly following it. He groaned, catching her face and tilting her lips up to meet his. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly before he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

"It's understandable, Dear heart. I will not hold it against you."

She sighed, smiling as she nodded; leaning up and pecking his lips softly. The tiny brush of lips almost bittersweet as she pulled away from him. His brows drew together, her words from before filtering through his brain as he looked to her perplexed.

"But what did you mean by 'we don't', Chaosia? What pray tell do we not do?"

She blushed, her cheeks blazing as she cut her eyes away from him. But he refused to let her step back when she tried, keeping her close as she muttered. And though he could see she was terribly embarrassed it was something she needed to say. Or he wouldn't know how to proceed.

"We-uh . . . well we don't _**date**_, Albert."

He raised a brow, dipping to look at her incredulously over his sunglasses as she ducked her chin; biting her lip as she continued hurriedly. And though it started to sound less juvenile as she progressed it was only slightly-God it was so easy to see she was only twenty six in moments like this.

"I mean, we aren't like _**this**_. We both have jobs we are very protective of and a lot to lose if someone made a big deal out of-"

"Out of what? Me taking you to dinner? To lunch? What could they find issue with?"

She sighed, shaking her head as she pushed her hands through her hair; her mood becoming aggravated again. She looked up at him, her eyes determined as she as she spoke to him.

"I am not jeopardizing my career-my integrity for some kind of random whatever this is. If you're serious about pursuing some kind of relationship then tell me. If not then stop with all of the little touches and the pet names."

* * *

><p>Wesker's mouth moved over the woman's hurriedly but thoroughly, and he savored the throaty little moan she gave as he pushed her back into the bed. He looked down at her, grinning darkly before kneeling on the edge of the plush mattress and high covers, kissing his way up from her chest to her jaw. And on past to her lips again as her arms looped around his. She'd come to their meeting and given him the updates for her precious <em>John's <em>research-research that William wasn't even close to being privy to, thanks to Spencer's paranoia where he was concerned; before telling him more of the organization she worked for. Apparently the Organization worked solely to control and eventually destroy Umbrella-to steal their secrets and try to contain the reckless madness that becoming more and more obvious.

He sighed against her skin, her fingers tracing his chest a bit too roughly for his tastes before she moved to nip at his jaw. Ada Wong had sworn when he first discovered her in the infancy of her espionage that if he would help her she would take care of him-hold his needs and desires parallel to her own. And so far she'd been living up to that promise.

He groaned, reaching down to pull her red silk dress over her head before tossing it across the room and basking in the form laid out before him. The bosomy brunette was gorgeous and lithe, with just enough curve to the toned muscle to be mouthwatering. And her pretty eyes and plump lips were another definite bonus for her . . . But as she leaned up and slid her hands under his shirt to caress his abs and chest he had to wonder why-even though he was thoroughly enjoying this little tryst so far- he felt like he was wrong.

Her hands pulled his shirt off slowly, tossing it to join her dress before she kissed her way across his chest. But her lips didn't leave the same tiny trails of fire in their wake as they usually did. And even as her hands dipped to his trousers, pulling them open to gain better access he still didn't feel the same rush of liquid heat he'd felt before. He groaned to himself, thankful the woman thought it was in pleasure as she giggled against him. And though it was a nice sound that sent pleasant thrills down his spine it wasn't the throaty little chuckles and soft laughs he wanted to hear.

Wesker shook himself, pulling Ada's face to his in a bruising kiss as she moaned against him. But her lips weren't as sweet as he wanted them to be. Or as plump and kissable. He leaned them back, pushing her flush across her sheets as his mouth left hers and worked down. He needed to get over this shit . . . or he was going to ruin everything he'd worked for.

Ada's head lulled back into the pillows and he groaned as her lace clad hips bucked up into his. And with her next little breathy moan he cut his mind off, making himself to enjoy the more than willing partner stretched across the bed; obviously greedy for his attention. But even as things progressed, he couldn't keep the little flashes of platinum blonde and sea glass green from the forefront of his mind every time he glanced up at the Ada's face. Or shake the feeling that he was committing some carnal sin against the girl-the one he surprisingly wanted-for dallying with this one. But it wasn't going to stop him from this . . . If he wanted to be able to keep himself ahead of everything else then he couldn't. Ada had as much claim as she would ever get on him-At least not until he knew more about who she worked for.

Even if he'd just promised Chaosia that he would be solely hers not even an hour before.

* * *

><p>Cynthia Connors sighed as she looked over the information on her desk. Irons had stormed in not even an hour before, throwing this onto her desk before demanding she deal with it. The thinly veiled threat warning her of what would happen if she didn't; making her roll her eyes. But what she didn't understand was why Irons was pitching such a fit over this.<p>

So what if Captain Wesker and Shaw had started spending time together? What did it matter?

There were plenty of other officers in relationships that were far more detrimental to his force . . . so why was he singling them out?

She shook her head, reaching out and picking up the phone; dialing a number she knew almost as well as her own. She waited, listening as the dial tone beeped before a deep voice filled the line. Her lips tugged into a smile all on their own, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she laughed. She knew that with everything between them she shouldn't be nearly as happy to hear his voice but she couldn't really help it. After all you never forget your first love . . . or your first husband.

_"Captain Polanski."_

"David? Its Cynthia . . ."

She heard him sigh, his voice softening enough that she felt herself relax. Good he was in a decent mood.

_"Cyn honey? What's wrong? Everything okay?"_

"I need a favor, if you can. Do you know Captain Wesker?"

_"From STARS? Yeah I've met him in passing . . . why? He giving you guys a hard time? Because I've heard he's a real **tightass** with his unit and if I need to I can crack his skull-"_

"No Davie, nothing like that. I actually need you to pass him a message. It seems that he's upset Irons somehow-"

He snorted, causing her to grin before his next words made her laugh aloud. She'd known she liked Wesker for a reason and apparently it was because they both hated Irons with a passion. Suddenly Irons vendetta made so much more sense.

_"Probably breathed wrong. Guy's a stickler for rules but somehow he managed to fuck himself over with the Chief from day one. Though from the gossip its because whenever there's some kind of lapse in activity the fucker keeps trying to push STARS to clean up after other departments. Word is Irons is already making some kind of push to make them help Vice. But why would any of that involve you."_

She rolled her eyes. She'd been married to Davie for almost fifteen years and she knew-through him and her own contacts-just how lackadaisical Vice could be. Especially under their newest commanding officer.

"Wesker is seeing my newest pathologist-they were introduced by one of his subordinates. Her brother, Bastian Shaw? Anyway Irons just stormed in here and warned me to dissuade their relationship. Something about how the interagency romance violates some new rule. Do you know anything about that?"

He laughed, long and hard before answering; is voice breaking as he continued to chuckle.

_"No. There isn't anything. Irons is just pitching a fucking fit. I'll drop Wesker a line . . . Do **you** mind the two of them seeing one another?"_

She laughed, shaking her head; leaning back into her seat with a grin.

"Now you know better, Davie. I just wanted to make sure. I let you get back to it. Love you, Davie."

_"Love you too, Cyn."_

She smiled, setting the phone down before closing her eyes; rocking slightly in the seat as she sighed. Now all she had to do was corner Chaosia . . . when the kid finally got in three days from now.

* * *

><p><em>and next chapter . . .<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_****Now I know that normally we wouldn't really see Wesker freak out but seriously? Everybody has their shitty days. And unfortunately for Albert his is today. No one kill me-just enjoy._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cancel<strong>_

_August 1996_

Wesker sighed as he scanned the piles of paperwork littering his desk, trying to keep himself from grinding his teeth. A habit Chaosia had laughingly pointed out that he shared with her brother just a few days earlier. He turned, glancing at the clock before shaking his head; reaching out and picking up the phone perched innocently on his desk. But as his fingers moved over the buttons, the embossed plastic numerals scarping his already sore flesh he knew the phone wasn't innocent.

As a matter of fact it was probably the sole instrument of his agony and most of his issues. If the damned thing wasn't in his office-sitting oh so innocently on his desk-then he wouldn't have to answer it. He wouldn't have had to deal with Irons this morning-because let's face it, the fat fuck wasn't going to come all the way down here just to bitch at him. And he wouldn't have been fielding the most absolutely ridiculous phone calls he'd ever faced before in his entire existence.

_Meaning he wouldn't have to call and cancel his damned lunch._

He sighed again, listening as a soft husky voice filled the line. He raised a brow before looking back to the clock, perplexed that the voice was sleep laden. Why was she still in bed?

"_Hello?"_

He blinked, his lips forming the very question he'd just thought before he could stop himself.

"Dear heart, why are you still in bed?"

He heard her groan and shift, the sound of fabric brushing against the receiver as she moved. And suddenly he wished he was there in bed with her, curled back around her the way he had months before. So what if he'd been drunk out of his mind and had nearly received a concussion the next morning? Right about now sitting in the emergency room with her-and a cracked skull- seemed like a damned vacation compared to what was waiting on him.

"_Because I got called into work last night. Well_-" she paused, her voice sounding even more despondent as she grumbled. _"Technically really fucking early this morning. I was just trying to sleep before lunch . . . wait-you're calling from work. What's wrong?"_

He sighed, reaching up and tugging his sunglasses off; tossing them onto the desk as he leaned back into his chair. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair as he spoke. Letting his irritation color his voice. She wouldn't mind if he vented for a second-actually she damn near harped on him to do just that.

_Well today she was getting her wish._

"Unfortunately I won't be able to make it to lunch. Honestly the way it looks right this moment I might be sleeping here. Irons is pushing for one thing while Vice can't seem to actually complete one stitch of their own paperwork."

"_Oh wow . . . how much is there?"_

He opened an eye, looking to the desk hatefully.

"At this point? Nearly a week's worth." He sighed, closing his eyes again. "I apologize, Dear heart. I know this is an inconvenience."

Her voice had become softer, almost a sigh as she settled back into her covers; the quiet sounds letting him know she'd moved.

"_Oh Albert its okay. I understand things happen at work that you can't control . . . just call me when you finally get to go home."_

She yawned before continuing, her voice deepening as she started to doze off. He chuckled, shaking his head. He didn't understand it but hearing her-how damned cute she sounded over the phone made him feel just the slightest bit better. He stilled, his lips drawing down into a thin frown as he realized what he'd just thought. He shook himself, focusing on her words. He was just tired and annoyed-hearing her was going to make him feel better. Hell hearing a screeching infant would probably be like attending the symphony right now.

"_Don't work too hard okay?"_

"I promise to try, Dear heart. Go back to sleep."

"_Night Albie. __**Behave.**__"_

Albert felt his lips tug to the side on their own as he heard her hang up. He shook his head, setting the handheld back in the cradle before he sighed. He leaned back, closing his eyes as he took a moment just to himself. He knew if anyone pushed through the door they would think him slacking but at the moment he didn't particularly care. Because despite how badly he hated to admit it he found himself lamenting the loss of his plans.

_Damn it all, he __**actually **__missed her._

* * *

><p>Three hours later Wesker tried not to scream as he slammed the phone down into the cradle, glaring daggers at the damned thing as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Oh what he wouldn't give to be able to smash the damned thing to bits! He knew it was childish and immature-and completely and totally unwarranted since the phone itself hadn't done anything wrong-but he didn't care. He just wanted to break something!<p>

First he'd had to deal with Irons bullshit over STARS collaboration with Vice, the Chief droning on and on about how the other division needed to better utilize their resources-resources Wesker knew the man kept cutting then bolstering whenever the mood struck him-instead of always depending on other units to pick up their slack. Right before he'd turned around and told him that _**both**_ of the STARS teams should consider offering to lighten Homicide's case load whenever their own was thin.

Something he didn't even want to consider because it would essentially tie them up constantly.

He sighed, slinging his sunglasses onto the desk; running his hands over his face as he groaned. He spread his fingers, glancing to the clock on the wall just as his stomach rumbled. Letting him know that it was indeed lunchtime . . . and that he'd somehow neglected to do anything but drain three pots of coffee.

A knock on the door made him look up, his hands raking down his face as he sank back into the seat. God what now?

"_**Come."**_

The door pushed open slowly, the bright white flooding the darker room; momentarily blinding him. He blinked, letting his eyes readjust before he could finally discern the grey shape that had stepped into his office. Only to start when he realized just who it was. There, bathed in a warm glow was Chaosia . . . with a white bag that was emitting the most absolutely delicious smell he'd ever come across in his life.

She turned, pushing the door closed before looking up to him with a bashful smile; her eyes widening in concern when she spotted the teetering towers of paperwork on his desk. She moved, setting the food down in one of the chairs before coming to stand just beside him. She was so close he could touch her if he moved-if he barely even budged. But she didn't take that tiny step closer; giving him the space he would normally need.

But today-after _**everything**_ he'd dealt with-he didn't _**need**_ space.

He moved, reaching out and catching her hands; tugging her the last half a step closer. Which was apparently all she needed to push her fingers through his hair as he buried his nose in her stomach, the soft cashmere of her sweater tickling his face as he sighed. Chaosia however didn't comment, combing her fingers through his hair softly as she sighed; hugging him tighter to her for just a few moments.

Wesker pulled back, his eyes moving up to lock with hers as her fingers moved over his temple down to his cheek; her voice soft and full of concern as she chided him quietly.

"I swear I didn't think you were serious Albert. But there _**is**_ enough paperwork here to keep you busy for at least a week. Maybe two. Is Vice helping with this at all?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes before he leaned into her touch; trying not notice how she flinched at the sound.

"I would** not** call it _**helping**_. What are you doing here, Dear heart?"

She shrugged, stepping back as she moved to pick up the bag. She set it on his desk, digging through and handing him a small white bottle with a green and red label; the letters bluntly declaring its contents. And he couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Just like he didn't fight the impulse to push to his feet and drop a thankful kiss on her cheek. Only she would think to bring him lunch _**and**_ this.

She gave him a bashful, beaming grin as she handed him the bottle; her cheeks flushing bright pink as she laughed.

"I knew you would appreciate it, baby. Go ahead and take four. Then eat and try to get yourself together."

He raised a brow, looking to her questioningly.

"And pray tell why do I need to do that, Dear heart?"

She grinned, glancing back to the door.

"Because I spent fifteen minutes out there with my brother and Chris . . . and their desks look worse than yours. Apparently the two hotheads in Vice-Marsters and Carners?"

His brows knit as he corrected her, his mood starting to sour again even as he stepped closer. He pulled her into him, letting her open the bottle and pull the cotton free before she handed him the four pills she'd suggested. She extended them to him, rolling her eyes as he dry swallowed all four before he continued.

"**Marshall** and **Carter**. They were the two officers who first had this sting . . . and subsequently almost let their case against the prostitution ring crumble before we stepped in. _**Why?**_ What of them?"

She looked up at him through her lashes, biting her bottom lip before she ran her tongue over it; soothing the swollen flesh as she sighed.

"Well they just dropped their paperwork on Bastian and Chris twenty minutes ago. Told them since your unit took over their case then your unit could take over the paperwork too. I uh-It took both me and Bastian to talk Redfield down from sniping their asses so you owe us."

He nodded, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers.

"I will make a note of it, Dear heart. What did you bring?"

He sighed, looking back to the bag as she grinned up at him; wagging her brows rakishly at him.

"You'll have to see. Look, you're busy so I'm going to go . . . I just wanted to make sure you _**ate**_. And that you didn't kill someone when the impending migraine finally reared its head."

Wesker moved, grabbing his phone and sunglasses from the desk before he followed her to the door; nodding for her to move with him.

"Come, I'll walk you out. Did you park in the complex?"

She shook her head, shouldering her purse as she followed him out and into the main office space.

"No. I parked in the visitors section . . . I don't have a pass to get into the garage."

Wesker nodded, stopping long enough for her to hug her brother before they made their way towards the elevators to the lobby. And as she reached out and hit the down arrow he made a mental note to have Bastian apply for a pass for her. He didn't like that she'd parked at the very rear of the Police Station. It might be the Stationhouse but it was still Raccoon City. And she needed to park in the lighted patrolled parking complex if she was going to make a habit of visiting them.

* * *

><p>Chaosia stopped in the middle of the Raccoon Police Department's courtyard, looking up at Wesker as he sighed irritably; running his hand over his hair for the fifth time in as many minutes. She could see he was agitated, and more than slightly stressed. What she couldn't understand was why?<p>

"So Irons wants your squad to pull Homicide's slack? Did he give a reason _other_ than _**stupidity?**_"

Wesker snorted, shaking his head as he pushed his hands into his pockets; looking over towards the parking lot she'd parked in. She stilled, just watching him for a moment. Albert was tall-taller than either of her brothers and well built; the sheer muscle in his chest and arms enough to make his waist seem ever trimmer than she knew it was. Not that he was fat-oh no, she'd had the definite joy of running her nails and mouth over the defined washboard abs hidden beneath the uniforms and tactical vests.

But his broad shoulders made him seem thinner.

That coupled with the chiseled features, his high cheekbones, fair skin, hay blonde hair and light blue eyes made him seem more like some kind of old world god come down from Olympus to mingle with the commoners. Not a man with three doctorates and enough service commendations to already be a Captain at thirty six.

She sighed, reaching up to push her wildly curling hair behind her ear; glaring at a corkscrew ringlet out of the corner of her eye. She still couldn't believe she'd just thrown on a sweater and jeans before she'd gone to grab his lunch. God she must look like a disaster! She hadn't even put on makeup!

A hand on her cheek made her attention turn back to him, her eyes wide as she realized how close he was to her now. When had he moved? She swallowed the lump in her throat, dragging herself back to the conversation at hand.

"A concern over the waste of manpower and personnel hours is all he's sticking to."

She rolled her eyes, leaning into his touch as she spoke; sharing her honest opinion. She knew that it probably wasn't going to go over well but he'd started to see that she didn't really have much of a filter when it came to other people's bullshit. And Irons seemed to always be at the top of one of their lists somehow.

"Well while that might be understandable with other units and divisions Chief Irons needs to remember that STARS was founded for a reason. And that reason wasn't to pick up everyone else's slack-be it from budget cuts, laziness, apathy or stupidity. I know that might be hard for him but if he hears it enough maybe it'll sink in."

Albert's eyes narrowed at her before his lips tugged into a dark grin. He tugged her closer, their noses almost touching as she leaned into him; her fingers sliding up his chest to curl in the lapels of his uniform shirt. He chuckled, his voice dark and smooth; just the way she liked to hear it.

"I'll have to remember that, Dear heart. Are you going home?"

She nodded, leaning up to ghost her lips over his. And she felt brazen for what she whispered to him but she knew it was safe. He wasn't getting out anytime soon . . . and by time he did all he would want to do is sleep.

"Probably. Why? Want me to wait for you?"

His eyes flashed as his mouth dipped to hers-only to wrench away as a familiar voice called to them.

"CAPTAIN! _**HEY!**_"

She turned, seeing Chris Redfield jogging to them; his cheeks flushed as he stopped just a few feet shy of them. He looked them over for a moment and she realized what they must look like. Her wrapped around him and Wesker gripping her hips into his. She blushed, burying her face in Albert's chest; willing the ground to just open up and swallow her whole.

_God Chris was going to run back inside and start gossiping to Bastian!_

He cleared his throat, looking away from them before he turned back; his cheeks brighter than they had been before.

"Uh Captain? We just got a call. Irons wants us ready to deploy within the hour, Sir. We're going to be aiding in a citywide manhunt."

Chaosia looked up as Albert stiffened, glaring hard enough that she knew Chris could feel it. She nudged him, his jaw loosening enough that his face relaxed; his voice nowhere near as strained as she'd expected it to be.

"Why? _**Who?**_"

Redfield shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"No clue, Sir. We weren't given a name-just a case number. Apparently the guy escaped police custody and he wants all of us on it ASAP. Bastian and Barry are already going over the case while the rest of us prepare. I just needed to catch you before you left."

Wesker sighed, looking to Chaosia as she shrugged; giving him a tiny grin. He turned, giving Redfield a pointed look before the man scampered off; all but running back into the Stationhouse before her well whatever he was sighed and rolled his eyes. He pulled his sunglasses off, catching her face in both of his hands as he searched her eyes. And seconds before his lips sealed over hers his words made her heart jump.

Oh God she didn't know if she was ready for this . . . they'd found even ground by slowly moving forward as they were. But if they pushed ahead and back into bed with one another then how would it all play out?

"I_** swear**_ Dear heart we will finish this. I _**will **_make this up to you."

She nodded as he pulled back, her fingers tracing his cheek lightly.

"Just be careful, Captain. I'd hate for that peppercorn pork roast and saffron confit to go to waste."

He grinned, pulling away from her and moving back towards the building. But as he passed the halfway point she called out, unable to stop herself.

"Albert?"

He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder as he stilled; his eyes locked on her as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Be save, okay? I-just don't get hurt."

He raised a brow before nodding, his lips tugging into a grin as he turned and continued into the Stationhouse a little quicker than before. And as she turned to make her way to her car she was amazed at how worried she found herself. She shook herself, aggravated. He was a trained professional and they had done hundreds of cases like this one. There was nothing to worry about.

_Even if the thought of him hurt made her heart freeze in her chest._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Advice**_

_August 1996_

Chaosia stepped slowly into Dr. Connors' Office, trying not to let her nervousness get the best of her. Things had already been odd enough for her in the office since she'd taken over the Archives-the other two pathologists on staff grumbling and gossiping any chance they got. And now that someone had pointed out that she and Albert were involved-which was about the only way she knew to put it without laying all of their business on the table- it seemed that rumors were starting to spread like wildfire.

Two of the four Pathology assistants had whispered and pointed, refusing to meet her gaze all fucking day until she'd finally snapped at them. And when they'd insisted they weren't saying anything about her-a damn lie and she fucking knew it, the lying bastards-they'd scurried from the room. Sending the new intern Jordan to fumble through helping her.

She sighed, rolling her eyes to herself. The kid was young and eager but he was shockingly intelligent. And she could respect the fact that his first actual conversation with her had been as honest as he could. He'd looked down to her-because despite him only being twenty one the kid easily towered a good four inches over her- with big blue eyes wide as he'd asked her the oddest question.

_"Do you really date the Captain of STARS?"_

Chaosia had almost died before she'd shrugged, giving him an uneasy smile and told him that it was complicated. That Wesker was friends with her brother-Bastian-and they were trying to get to know one another better. Jordan had seemed content with that and gone about his business, talking like he hadn't just asked an extremely personal question. And all of that had happened before eleven!

This is why she hated mornings! People were so much easier to deal with on the night shift . . . because she mostly came in contact with the dead-and they didn't say shit.

She sighed, closing the door behind her as she locked eye with Connors; the woman's lips set in a firm line as she sat almost motionless at her desk. Chaosia swallowed, straightening her shoulders as she moved to take a seat in front of the desk. But as she sank into the chair her phone buzzed in her pocket. Connors nodded, her lips tugging to the side as she chuckled; motioning for her to take the call.

"Go ahead, it might be important."

She tugged the phone free, glaring at the number as soon as she saw it. It was from Wesker's cell . . . God why was he calling her? she knew she'd told him she was taking the early shift this morning. She glanced up at Connors, bititng her lip before she hit answer; making a mental note to skin him alive if this wasn't some sort of emergency.

"Shaw."

_"Chaosia? Do you have a moment?"_

She cut her eyes to her boss, feeling her nervousness rear its head again. She shook her head, answering into the phone again.

"No, not really. Let me call you back, Captain."

She ended the call before he could respond, turning the phone off as she looked up to Connors. She nodded, tossing the phone back into her labcoat pocket as she straightened. But Connors never lost her smile, her eyes gleaming as she chuckled again.

"You needed to see me, Ma'am?"

Connors nodded, laughing out right as she leaned back into her seat a bit further; relaxing as Chaosia tensed. God what was going on?

"Yes, Dr. Shaw I do; but calm down. You're not in any trouble. I just needed to touch base with you on a personal matter . . ."

* * *

><p>Wesker looked over the screen, eagerly taking in the new advance William had managed; the virus now nowhere near as volatile as it had been. Oh sure it was nowhere near stable-it would still cause unmitigated mutation but now the range was at least somewhat limited. But what astounded him was how it seemed to surpass T in its ability to overtake the host cells.<p>

_It was definitely the stronger of the two viruses-for the moment . . . but the unpredictability would limit its uses._

He turned to William, ready to ask another question when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, flicking it open before he rolled his eyes. Camille. He answered, not bothering to sound as he normally would when he talked with this particular person. He had no interest in further pursuing another dalliance with her. Chaosia-and the encounters he had with Ada were enough. He wasn't even going to attempt taking on another.

"Wesker."

_"I was hoping to hear from you again, baby. I thought we had plans to get reconnect sometime before now. Do you want to meet me?"_

He rolled his eyes again, trying not to snort at her needy overly sweet tone. He and Camille Warren had carried on with one another months before he'd ever met Bastian-before he'd been introduced to Chaosia. And while he would admit the woman had been one of his more talented lovers he wasn't interested.

"Unfortunately not. I am otherwise engaged, Camille."

She stilled before speaking again, her voice carrying more of an edge than it had before.

_"Oh really? With what, pray tell? Or should I say who?_"

He cut his eyes down to William, uncomfortable with the look his friend was leveling on him. It wasn't often that Birkin looked to him in disapproval but tonight he was. But the question was why?

"None of your concern. But I am uninterested in reconnecting, Camille."

_"For how long? Surely whatever little tart you're bedding now won't last too long-"_

"_**Indefinitely**_. Do not call me again."

He hung up, not giving her a chance to speak as he closed the phone; pushing it into his pocket again as he looked to William. Who just sighed and shook his head, looking back to his sample through the microscope. Wesker raised a brow, sighing as William finally spoke.

"You'd better be careful, Al. You're playing with fire and you know it."

Wesker snorted, moving to drop into the seat beside him. he leaned back, looking up to the ceiling lazily before he stilled. He cocked his head to the side, only then noticing the multitude of pencils stuck into the ceiling tiles; making a sloppy rendition of the Umbrella logo. He blinked, turning to look to William.

"Camille is easy enough to control William. Why is your ceiling covered in pencils?"

William didn't look up, adjusting his scope as he spoke. His voice almost sounded distant but Wesker listened intently, perplexed by what he said about his relationship.

"Because Sherry and I got bored waiting on Annette last night. And I wasn't talking about Camille-I'm talking about Chaosia."

"Why would I need to worry about Chaosia? She and Camille will never cross paths-they're in entirely different circles, hold different interests."

"But Camille isn't the only person you've fucked, Al. You have a whole stable of women tucked away somewhere . . . and all its gonna take is one wrong word. Didn't you just tell her that you would be in a relationship with her? An _exclusive_ one?"

Wesker nodded before shrugging let his head lull back again as he spoke.

"I told her I would willing pursue a relationship with her-to explore the chemistry between us. Its all a means to an end, William. A necessary one with the way the Coroner's Office is run. We wouldn't want another mishap like _Dr. Powel_ to contend with now would we?"

William looked up, glaring before rolling his eyes; his dirty hair falling around his face as he snorted.

"Hey I found out she had the sample of G and did what had to be done. **_You're_** the one who cleared out her damn apartment. Guess you never knew you were making the way for your _future **girlfriend's**_ promotion did you? God its too weird to think that isn't it? You with an actual girlfriend instead of a string of lovers and mistresses. Oh and don't let me forget to give you those tickets. Thank God if you take them then I don't have to go-I hate these fucking things, you know? But man Annie just eats 'em up."

Wesker snorted, closing his eyes as he listened to Birkin drone on and on. But as the night wore on he found himself checking his cellphone more and more frequently. Because to have a new 'girlfriend'- a title he'd never liked-he sure as hell hadn't heard from her since he'd canceled their lunch days before. And as much as he hated to admit it he was almost worried over what was happening.


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay kiddies, this is one of the chapters that will live up to the M rating. Its towards the end so if you want to skip it you could . . ._

_Warnings: sex, language_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Date<strong>_

_August 1996 _

Wesker sighed, pushing out of the Jaguar before he could convince himself to stay in the blasted thing. If he was inside then he could actually claim he had no reception. And considering he hadn't told anyone-even Bastian and Burton-where he was going then he and Chaosia might get to fucking finish a date. He hadn't had to work this hard to get someone to actually go out to bloody _**dinner**_ since he'd started working with Umbrella. And even then it had been because of contamination or some near outbreak.

_Or one of William's damned meltdowns over Alexia Ashford . . . _

He shook himself, looking over his suit before glancing back up to the door he'd stopped in front of. The charcoal suit was tailored to fit; the wool and silk blend immaculate as well as the pressed black dress shirt. His cufflinks were in order as were his tie-a solid charcoal because he'd fought his striped one for almost twenty minutes before finally giving up and grabbing this one- and his shoes. He sighed, readying himself for whatever lay in wait behind the dark wooden door of Chaosia's townhouse.

Bastian had warned him that the lake house was completely different from her actual home, and that he and their brother barely felt comfortable sitting on the furniture; let alone relaxing and staying. And while the sentiment-and the unspoken admittance behind his statement didn't surprise him he found himself almost nervous to see the woman's home.

_Or how she was going to take their date._

He'd noticed Chaosia was content with their lunches and conversations but he'd watched her literally blossom into a completely different person while they'd walked together through the courtyard behind the precinct a few days before. And he wasn't above saying he wanted to see more of _**that**_ woman. He'd had to cancel their plans and she'd surprised him, bringing his usual order from Deliviani's-and a small bottle of Excedrin Migraine discretely tucked in the bag. He'd thanked her, laughing at the OTC meds-which they both knew would do him more good than the food- before leading her out and towards the guest parking lot. Cutting through the courtyard.

They'd walked together towards the lot, her listening as he'd vented about the situation in STARS. They were coming off of a relatively small co-op with Vice- trying to finish the paperwork and Irons was already pushing them to consider working with Homicide whenever their case load was thin. Chaosia had listened, telling him that while she could see Irons concern about the potential waste of manpower and hours he just needed to realize that STARS was created for a reason. To handle manhunts and the situations the other divisions couldn't . . . not to fill in the spaces his own budget cuts and stupidity caused.

_An opinion he full heartedly agreed with._

After that she'd smiled and laughed, joking with him easily before melting into his touch. Eagerly meeting his lips when he'd gone to kiss her goodbye, swearing he would make the cancellation up to her. But all of that had come to a crashing halt when Redfield had found, telling him that not only had Irons called in STARS-both Alpha and Bravo-but that he was refusing to tell them what it was about.

Only that they would be deploying in an hour to find a suspect that had escaped from police custody.

Every time they'd talked after that had been so short and clipped that he'd barely had the opportunity to arrange this outing. And she'd seemed intent to refuse before he'd finally cornered her in the morgue, decreeing she was going to accompany him to dinner and they were not going to be interrupted. He could still see her leaning against the counter, one of her arms crossed over her chest as she glanced up at him through her lashes. Her bottom lip between her teeth before she sighed, wetting her lips as she shook her head.

"_Do you really think this is for the best? Irons has already made an informal statement to Dr. Connors-advising her to be aware of the interagency relationship we were carrying on right under her nose. I just-I don't want this to hurt either of us . . . and obviously we aren't being as discrete as we thought we were."_

He'd looked down to her like she was crazy before letting a bark of laughter loose, the sound echoing off the cold white walls of the morgue as she'd looked at him like he was crazy. Of course she had no clue that all of this was expected-and more Irons own vendetta against him than any true object to their involvement. But it was still so odd to see her actually concerned for him professionally.

Most other women-even Ada who he could easily burn along with himself- would've cut ties as soon as they'd been questioned out of concern for themselves. Chaosia however was worried for both of them-and wanted them to make a decision together. He sighed, shaking his head. Of all the women for him to have to romance he had to acquire the one who was moral and confusing.

_Why couldn't she just be a normal heartless overly ambitious bitch like most of the others in her gender he'd come across?_

He reached out, knocking once and waited. But when it opened he wasn't prepared for what was behind it.

Not in the least.

The girl had styled her hair differently, the platinum and light golden blonde curls that swept over the left side of her forehead in a classic style. The rest hung around her in big loose ringlets and curls, glittering as she moved. Her skin seemed darker, richer; her blue green eyes insanely large against thick black lashes. She grinned up at him, glossy peach lips spreading into a sweet little smirk as she stepped back to let him inside.

And once he was in he had to do a double-take as he noticed her dress. The ivory taffeta hugged her curves down to her hips before spreading ever-so-slightly into a multitude of scalloped layers of taffeta, silk and lace . . . the same lace that he could see embroidered around the top of the dress. She moved, drawing his eyes down her long legs to her bare feet. He raised a brow, looking back up to her as she blushed at him prettily.

If she kept looking at him like that they weren't going to make it to the restaurant . . . or the other activity he had planned for tonight.

"Sorry . . . I was just about to get my shoes and jacket. I'll be right back."

He nodded, watching her pad quickly through the open living and dining room; shooting through an open doorway before he made up his mind. Bastian's little comment about her home had him curious . . . and he wasn't going to try to fight it. He moved out of the entry way and into the living room; looking over the large open space. The walls were painted a dark but warm French gray, the bone white sofa and chairs nestled comfortably around the dark wooden coffee table sitting well against the gleaming hardwood floors. The dining room table set a few feet away, the long dark farmtable expertly distressed with a hanging chandelier glittering overhead; the stuffed tufted bone colored chairs matching the living room furniture.

He nodded, moving past the open rooms and past the open doorway Chaosia had disappeared through; intrigued to see it was actually a staircase that led to the upper level of the home. He turned, looking over the glistening mahogany cabinets and dark stone counters before he moved past the bar; amazed to see another open room that was two steps down. The large sectional in this room was covered in dark plush leather, a matching ottoman housing a tray with remote controls and books while the centerpiece of the room was easily the towering TV and entertainment center.

He raised a brow, looking over the mammoth system before shaking his head. He'd never guessed her to be one for trivialities such as television but apparently he didn't know everything. At least not about her. He turned going to step back up and into the kitchen when he spotted her leaning against the doorway, a cropped ivory blazer firmly in place over her dress as she raised a brow to him. He moved up the steps casually, noticing as he stopped on the last one that the towering heels-and the advantage of her being a step higher-still only brought her to his nose.

Wesker smirked as she sighed, shaking her head before she nodded to the television. Her words only reaffirming that he had pegged her correctly after all.

"Oh god, not you too. I swear the only reason I even got that thing was to give Khail something to do other than whine when he visits."

Wesker shook his head, stepping up and into the kitchen before extending his hand; looping their fingers together as he chuckled.

"I assure you Dear heart I was merely curious. Your brother pointedly informed me that was a stringent set of rules to abide within your household. I was merely trying to ascertain why."

She laughed, shaking her head as she held up her hand; a glittering silver necklace dangling from her fingers as she looked to him almost expectantly.

"Can you fasten this please? I can't seem to get it . . ."

He nodded, moving to take it when he noticed how high the collar to her jacket was when she pulled her hair to the side. The soft silk was snug right beneath her hairline, the jacket only slightly lighter than her curls. He tapped her shoulder, dipping to speak in her ear; his lips brushing the outer edge of her ear.

"You need to remove your jacket, Dear heart."

Chaosia nodded, shedding her jacket before she moved, baring her back to him as she held her hair off her neck. He reached over, running his fingers over her spine lightly before he clasped the clunky necklace. And when she turned he had to admit it was pretty. The intricate silver and jewels swirled together with the silk thread to create looping designs. And even though it was larger it still sat right along her collarbone and clavicle . . . leaving her cleavage bare to him. He fought back a groan, looking her over as she moved to situate the glittering collar.

He cocked his head to the side, watching her shrug back into her jacket before smoothing the material down. The slightly shimmering fabric of the coat matching the ivory shoes on her feet. They were tall-taller than the others he'd seen- with a slightly rounded toe and thin towering heels.

"Are you sure you can walk in these, Dear heart?"

She glanced down before laughing, shaking her head as she stepped back to him. And he was surprised to see that she came almost to his chin now. God how high were her heels? And would she actually be able to walk and partake in everything he had planned?

"They're Christian Louboutins, Captain. From next year's spring collection. For what I paid I should be able to run a marathon in them."

He nodded, reaching up to touch her hair as he rolled his eyes. Despite the obviously formed curls it was still so soft; almost like silk falling over his fingers as he twisted a ringlet. She blushed, looking up to him.

"Are you ready?"

He nodded, reaching down and taking her hand when he noticed the canary diamond ring on her finger. It was on her left ring finger. He raised a brow, lifting her hand as she looked down, blushing when she saw what he was looking at before she went to explain. He couldn't however get past the size. The thing was massive, rimmed by moderately sized white diamonds and set in platinum; something he knew made it worth a small fortune.

"It was my mother's. Its one of the few things I actually kept that my father gave her. I know it's a little extravagant but it matches the necklace . . . You don't mind right?"

He shook his head, bringing her hand to mouth; brushing his lips over the ring and her knuckle before he let it fall. And he loved the way she flushed and looked at him. He grinned, stepping back so she could move around him. Now if the powers that be would let him be able to stay on her good side for the rest of the evening he would be fine.

* * *

><p>Chaosia laughed as Albert spun her out and back into his chest in time to the music, leaning into him as they danced to the band playing softly. She'd heard about the gala being hosted downtown by Umbrella earlier this week but she hadn't given it much thought. Not with everything going on in her own world. So to find that not only had Albert gotten them tickets-how she wasn't even sure since they were already sold out- but that he'd cued in on her secret love of all things jazz was pretty amazing.<p>

She looked up, smiling at him as he dipped and pressed his lips against hers. And when she stretched to wrap her arms around his neck he didn't do anything but let her. Actually, his hands separated- one moving down to cup her ass as the other came up to knot in her curls. And she loved the deep moan she got when she sighed against him. He pulled away, looking her over intensely before slashing his mouth across hers again.

_God he could do that all night . . ._

"Enjoying yourself, Dear heart?"

She nodded, looking him over as they swayed to the music. And even though he seemed so much more relaxed than he had any time before she could still see he was alert; occasionally glancing around them as he took in the faces scattered through the crowd. Like he was watching and waiting for something to happen. Probably someone connected with Irons to harass them some more.

She looked down, trying to gather herself as she fought back the little stab of disappointment. She knew he was an odd person . . . and that he'd probably spoken to her more than he ever would any member of STARS-save maybe Bastian. But it didn't make her feel any better. Something else about all of this was still off; she just wished she knew what it was.

He sighed, tilting her chin up so he could look her over before his lips brushed against hers lightly and she didn't even think as she melted into the next soft kiss he dropped on her. Her arms wound around his shoulders as his hands separated, one going to tug her hips into his as the other moved over her cheek to keep her against him. And when he moved to deepen the kiss she didn't resist him. Far from it . . . she met him eagerly, her lips parting for him on their own as she moaned against him.

Which earned her an answering moan.

She pulled back, giggling as she reached up to wipe her lipstick from his mouth as he pressed his forehead to hers. This had turned out to be an amazing night despite her initial misgivings . . . now she just had to see how the rest of it would go. Because how he acted now that the band was winding down and they were getting ready to leave would answer the rest of the questions she had about him.

He stepped back, letting her move as the final notes sounded before he dipped to press another kiss to her cheek. She grinned, looping her fingers through his as she leaned into him. And when he smirked down to her she found herself hoping that he really was just odd; that he was as interested in her as he claimed to be. Because she desperately wanted to believe that someone like him could actually want someone like her.

Wesker smiled down to her, nodding towards the car as she smiled up at him.

"Ready, Dear heart?"

She nodded, kissing his chin before she moved to collect her purse. And something about the way his hands raked down her sides, barely touching her as he spun her back to face him made her melt. She looked up into his blue eyes-the shockingly light irises void of his trademark sunglasses for once as they roamed her face. And she found herself wishing, praying desperately.

_Please don't let this be too good to be true . . . Don't let** him** be too good to be true._

* * *

><p>Chaosia unlocked her door, turning back to look at Wesker as he waited with her. She pushed the door open, knowing she was blushing but she didn't care. She just wanted to see where this was leading. She smiled at him, nodding her head towards the interior of the house.<p>

"Do you want to come in, Captain? Have a drink with me?"

He nodded once, stepping by her slowly and surely before he turned to wait for her to close the door. And as soon as she turned to go make their drinks he had her flush against him, his mouth working over hers feverishly as his hands found their former spots. She moaned against him, pulling away long enough to take in a greedy gulp of air before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He chuckled darkly against her cheek as he tugged her even closer, his mouth ghosting over her jaw as he spoke.

"Do you have _**any**_ idea how badly I've wanted to do that?"

* * *

><p>Chaosia shook her head slowly, taking in a shuddering breath as Wesker ran his hands down her sides; settling low on her hips. He moved, tugging her closer with one hand as the other threaded in her curls; knotting at the base of her skull as his mouth moved over hers slowly and thoroughly. She moaned for him, bending her neck to give him better access. He groaned, pulling away to look her over heatedly.<p>

She looked far too tempting with kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks for him to willingly step away from her. But if she asked him to he would . . . He would have to practically sleep in an ice shower but he would.

"Since our first night back from Arklay. What do you want, Dear heart? You have to tell me."

She leaned into him, tugging him down to kiss her again. And as she kissed up his jaw to his ear he felt his blood boil. God he knew he wasn't supposed to be doing this but he couldn't get passed the feel of her. He was dangerously close trouble here . . . but as she spoke he found that he really didn't care. Not as much as he should.

"You . . . Albert."

He nodded, groaning as he scooped her up and started towards the steps to her bedroom. He knew this wasn't a good thing but he didn't care . . . no one would be able to fault him for giving into her. He pushed the door open, crossing to the bed and dropping her into the plush covers. But as she looked up at him uncertainly he felt his gut clench. But why? Why did seeing her so vulnerable make him feel almost wicked?

"This isn't going to be a one-time thing . . . is it? I mean, you want more than just . . ._** this**_."

He dipped his head, cupping her cheek as he ran his nose along hers. He ghosted his lips over hers before he answered her. God he wasn't going to be able to keep his promise to Bastian. He was going to destroy this girl.

"I want as much as you'll give me Dear heart. If I merely wanted you once before would've sufficed."

She looked up, her eyes searching his as he looked down to her. And he could see it in her eyes that she still didn't quite believe him. But as she swallowed loudly, cupping his face as she looked at him she nodded. He wondered if all of her lovers had felt like this. She looked at him so completely open and trusting that it made him feel insanely powerful. And wretched . . . he was going to abuse that trust. But when she ghosted her lips over his he couldn't stop himself.

He dipped, closing his mouth over hers forcefully as she clung to him. He moved, tugging her closer with one hand as the other threaded in her curls; knotting at the base of her skull as his mouth moved over hers slowly and thoroughly. She moaned for him, bending her neck to give him better access; spreading her legs just a bit wider as he settled between them. But when his fingers dipped, tracing her lace clad mound he felt more than heard her breath hitch. He stilled, waiting to see what happened . . . and when she didn't pull away he slipped a digit beneath her panties. She was unbelievably wet . . . and as he pushed past her lips he found it hard to contain himself.

She was so small . . . . as tight and warm as he remembered. He moved his mouth, working down her jaw and neck as a second finger joined the first. And soon enough he had her sopping, whimpering as he teased her. He chuckled against her skin, nipping at the tender flesh at the bend of her neck. And he savored the little shudder she gave.

He grinned, slashing his mouth over hers as his fingers left her. But in a few quick tugs of fabric he had himself bared and lined up with her; waiting for her to tell him to go. She felt him press against her and groaned, pulling away from his lips as he pushed against her lightly. Leaving him to chuckle at her whimpered reprimand.

"Don't tease, Albert. _**Please**_ . . ."

He moved, sliding into her in one swift movement; seating himself completely within her as her back arched off of the mattress beneath them. And try as he might he couldn't force himself to move for the first few moments. She was too tight . . . too warm and wet. But at the first little jerk of her hips he was gone. He moved, burying himself in her as deeply as he could while his mouth worked over hers. And soon enough he had her writhing and gasping beneath him, clinging to him as she peaked.

He groaned, letting his head fall to rest on her collarbone; her necklace digging into his flesh as he leaned into her just a little harder. God he wanted to fucking pop . . . but he hadn't planned on this. He hadn't brought anything with him. He'd honestly thought she would go with him and dance; that they would kiss and go their separate ways before he went home.

She gasped again, her back arching off the bed and he felt his control almost snap. He reached up, catching her mouth with his as he moved again. And it seemed like it only took seconds to bring her crashing down around him again, clinging to him as she gasped his name. He groaned, kissing and biting at her neck. God she couldn't do that or he was done for . . . and this was far too good for this to be over so quickly. Which is how he ended up a near quivering mess as she milked him dry, trying to squeeze every last drop out of him as he came. But it didn't bother him as badly as he knew it should have. Because the second she could breathe normally she lifted up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that had him wanting to come all over again.

_God how could she do that with a kiss?_

Wesker shuddered, going to pull himself free before he stilled. She was still quivering around him . . . and the tiny movement he'd just made was enough to send pleasure shooting through both of them. He shifted again, kissing down her neck as she clung to him. She caught his face in her hands, bringing his mouth up to hers as she brushed her lips across his. He pressed his forehead against hers, looking her over as he tried to catch his breath. But as he shifted, going to move she caught him; tugging him back and he knew he wouldn't be able to leave . . . not now.

He kissed her, pulling away as he traced her still flushed cheeks. And he had to admit to himself that he loved seeing her like this . . . He dipped, pressing his forehead against hers again as he spoke to her. Had Bastian ever even thought that this would come from introducing them?

"Let's get you out of this dress, Dear heart. And me out of this suit."

She grinned up at him tiredly, chuckling as she brushed her lips against his cheek. But as he went to slide away she stopped him, seeming uncertain as her voice became a whisper. The vulnerability from before leeching back into her words.

"Do you want to- I mean you could stay . . . "

He stilled, shaking his head at her. Normally his dalliances wanted him out as badly as he wanted to leave-save the ones who were clingy or trying to foster some false sense of romance for their own purposes.

"Do _**you**_ want me to?"

She bit her lip before she nodded, going to move. And he groaned as he watched her slide to her feet . . . just then noticing that she'd yet to shed the damned shoes. God they'd just . . . and she had worn a pair of shoes that cost more than his monthly salary for the RPD. He flopped-honestly flopped back into the bed, covering his eyes as she turned back to look at him. But as she shook her head and moved over to her dresser he could admit to himself that he loved the way they made her legs look.

She came back, handing him a pair of folded dark gray sweatpants and a wife beater with a hesitant smile. And when he raised a brow she laughed, explaining.

"Swathing me in the remnants of old lovers now, Dear heart?"

"I stole them from Bastian the last time I stayed to help him profile. And I've kind of kept them in case he ever drunkenly stumbles in. They should fit but don't hold me to it."

He pushed up onto his elbows, smirking at her darkly as she smiled at him bashfully. He shook his head, trying not to chuckle as he watched her go towards her dresser. He'd just bedded her-for the second time and she was blushing? He watched her pull out a pair of French shorts and a tank top before she went to go towards her bathroom. A few minutes later she was back, her hair brushed out and her glasses in hand as she made her way to the bed. But he had to marvel at the shorts. They were white and lacey; barely hiding anything. And the tank top seemed to be made of raw silk in the same color as her damned covers.

_Did everything she had match some way or another?_

He pushed to his feet, going to move into the bathroom to change. And he knew he would need to have his suit dry cleaned but he didn't really care. He'd just have to remember to actually undress next time.

God he knew how they were going to spend most of their time together . . .

* * *

><p>A while later Chaosia lounged on Albert's chest, talking with him quietly as they lazed in her bed. She sighed, glancing up to him as he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles; bringing her hand up to kiss them before letting it fall back to his chest. She'd never thought they would actually . . . or that they could actually do this. Or that Albert Wesker would actually be one to stay and bask in the afterglow but apparently she was wrong.<p>

"So, Dear heart. What exactly did you and Dr. Connors do earlier to inspire such wrath from Irons?"

She laughed; shaking her head before squeezing his hand lightly. Apparently trying to start random conversations wasn't a strong point for him- even after they'd slept together. But it made her feel better that it seemed to just be the way he was-and ease some of her issues from their first drunken spectacle before. God if she'd known half about him then that she did now she would've never thrown a lamp at his head. Probably still a vase but never the heavy crystal and iron Tiffany lamp. She shifted, snuggling closer to him before she looked up.

"So you heard about that? Captain Kleist from Homicide has been breathing down Connors neck for a week to get some random toxicology report back. The only problem is we've been sending that toxicology report to your precinct for over a week."

He raised a brow, glancing down at her. She could see he hadn't known about this, from the way his eyes were starting to narrow at the edges and his lips thinned. Just like she could tell he wasn't happy by the way his whole body stiffened.

"Where _**exactly**_ have you been sending it? To what division?"

She shook her head, resting her cheek over his heart as she pushed him back into her bed. She knew now that she had to be careful about what she told him. Because though she knew he wasn't interested in anything that happened within the morgue it wouldn't do for him to work himself up over the constant mistakes that came in from his coworkers. Or that she-well mostly Connors took every opportunity to point it out and chew the Chief of Police's ass. She squeezed his hand, deciding what to tell him without keeping too much from him.

This was the part of trying to bring people into her life that wasn't so wonderful-talking about work.

"We've sent them to Homicide, Clerical, and even Irons himself. And every single time we get the same bullshit-no one's seen them. It isn't even something worth being so torn out of the frame over."

"How so?"

"Barely elevated potassium levels-nothing to even hint at lethal even with the secondary indepth tests. The woman was apparently the niece of some city official though. So obviously deferential treatment-like the bullet hole in her chest wasn't what killed her."

Wesker snorted, shaking his head before he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. He tucked her hair behind her ear, adjusting her glasses as his grin softened. She yawned, snuggling into him as she closed her eyes. And giggled when he tugged her glasses off and laid them on her nightstand. His fingers worked through her curls, lulling her to sleep as she sighed. She could get used to this . . . and it was really nice to think that she was wrong for once. He was just odd.

_But she could get used to it . . ._


	9. Chapter 9

_****Thanks so much for the reviews, alerts and faves. A quick reminder that this is AU and the rating is M (nothing lemony in this update but i like to occasionally warn to prevent the dreaded flames). On with the show. And no before anyone says it I **don't** dislike Annette or any other character-this is just the way it played out. But i do have to admit I am becoming a fan of the good Dr. Birkin._

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><p><em><strong>William<strong>_

_September 1996_

William Birkin kept his eyes on Chaosia Shaw as they finished their coffee, neither overly comfortable now that Wesker was no longer with them. He watched her for a few more moments before he sighed, the action bringing her eyes up to his. The light blue green was startling, a shock against her slightly tanned skin just like her stark platinum curls. She was a pretty little thing . . . and he'd seen enough of her work to know she was just as smart.

He shifted, reaching for the bill when she rolled her eyes; snatching it away just as his fingers grazed the paper. He raised a brow as she shook her head, her voice firm as she warned him.

"I'm telling you right now, Mr. Birkin. Albert rarely lets me take care of anything . . . and by God I'm paying for this today if it kills me."

His brows drew together before he could stop them, his head cocking to the side as his mouth opened. And words he'd never imagined saying to a woman spilled forth. Annette had almost skinned him for having to go Dutch on their first few dates-and Lord the one time he'd forgotten his wallet had almost kept them from getting married. So to hear her say that was more than odd. It was almost surreal.

"You're serious? You_ **want**_ to pay?"

She gave him a deadpan look before nodding, turning and handing the waitress the check with a smile and her card before she turned back to him. She crossed her arms leaning back into her seat as she looked him over. And a few seconds later she sighed, shaking her head with a dark little grin; almost like a spider smiling to a fly.

"Let me guess, your wife hates to pay. Wants to be pampered and live the ideal perfect date every single time you go out."

William stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly as she continued; her grin widening as she winked at him.

"Bet you have the house, the kid and the white picket fence too. The perfect _**normal**_ American dream and family."

William blinked, feeling himself get angry before he noticed how light her eyes were. And just how she was smirking. She was actually joking with him, picking on him the way that Albert had when they were teenagers. God it was eerie . . . but his lips tugged to the side on their own, laughter bubbling from his throat before he could stop it.

He shook his head, laughing loud enough for the other patrons to turn and look as Chaosia shook her head; accepting her card from the waitress when she returned. The young woman looked to him, her eyes worried as she glanced to Chaosia.

"Is he okay, ma'am?"

Chaosia nodded, waving her off with a wicked grin; winking before she picked her coffee back up. The waitress nodded, scampering off back towards the kitchen as he tried to compose himself. He sighed, picking his cup back up and drained it; shaking his head. They sat together for a few more moments, neither commenting as they watched the other patrons of the dinner return to their meals and conversations. And William took the time to actually consider what was going on.

Albert had called and invited him to eat lunch with him and Chaosia-to actually meet the girl as his friend rather than glimpse her the way he did all of his other . . . partners. And before he'd been called away his friend had been trying-fairly hard- to get the two of them to speak. He sighed, looking her over one more time as he made up his mind. Whether he wanted to admit it Albert was far more invested in this than he liked to believe . . . and the girl across from him was probably one of the few people who would ever be able to handle Wesker's idiosyncrasies. Besides she had to be better than some of the fucking bitches his friend had bedded before.

He looked to her, catching her gaze as he spoke.

"Are you serious? About my friend? Because he doesn't do this; have me meet the women he's seeing. I haven't met one of his girlfriends since we were in grad school."

And he watched her cheeks flush as she answered, nodding as she pushed her hair out of her face almost shyly. She was just as backwards as Albert . . . but she was at least honest enough to answer him. She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing even darker as she spoke.

"I think I'm more serious about this than he his . . . In the fairness of full disclosure I was almost terrified to come today. I-I didn't think Albert _**had**_ any friends other than Bastian."

William laughed, shaking his head as he extended his hand across the table; giving her a salacious grin as he wagged his brows at her.

"Well before your brother I have to admit the Friend Pin was getting kind of lonely. I'm William Birkin. Its very nice to meet you Chaosia."

She grinned, taking his hand and shaking it; her bell like laughter joining his own as she shook her head.

"Chaosia Shaw. Its very nice to meet you too, William. So you've known Albert since Grad school?"

He grinned, leaning in close as he spoke. Albert was going to be pissed but he'd get over it. Besides he needed all the help he could get with her. This wasn't one of his socialites or some Umbrella hellspawn with a pretty smile.

"Actually Ms. Shaw I met him when I was sixteen. And at first we were very competitive with one another-vying for grants and such. But eventually he just kind of grew on me."

* * *

><p><em>next chapter . . .<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_**Ada**_

_October 1996_

Chaosia woke up slowly, which in itself was odd. Usually, when she regained consciousness it was instantaneous . . . she rarely ever got to wake up in stages. Or savor actually being able to lounge and enjoy the sensation. She opened her eyes briefly before stretching and rolling over, snuggling back into the cream and bluish gray covers. She moved, her eyes darting around the room as she gathered her bearings; cheeks flushed bright red as she heard the water in her bathroom running. Screw red, she knew they were probably magenta at this point.

She sighed, running a hand down her face as she bit her lip. Albert had spent the night-_**again**_. And was, apparently, making use of her shower before she had to get ready to go into work. She shifted, sitting up only to realize she was wearing his STARS shirt, the fabric rumpled and wrinkled. And the only thing she was wearing.

It was odd to be lounging in bed while her lover showered in the other room but it was nice. She rolled, settling into the covers a little deeper as her eyes started to close again. She'd never guessed that things would turn out like this for her and Albert but she was glad they had. She'd been introduced to his friends-William and Annette and their daughter Sherry. And he'd finally admitted that he wanted to be with her, in this relationship-instead of exploring their natural chemistry or whatever he'd tried to cop to before.

And in the weeks since things had been wonderful-almost perfect.

One of the cellphones on the dresser started to ring, buzzing across the smooth wooden top as she rolled her eyes. The water was still running in the bathroom and since she was-technically- still asleep she wasn't responsible for answering their phones. A few moments later it stilled, letting her almost drift off again. But that only lasted a few seconds. She sighed, laying her head in her hands as a phone started ringing-again.

She groaned, pushing out of the bed before moving to answer it. Only to stop when she realized it was Albert's phone that was ringing and not hers. She bit her lip, glancing to the closed bathroom door; steam billowing from underneath letting her know he was still wasting her hot water. She rolled her eyes, picking the phone up and answering it; pressing it to her ear as she spoke.

"Hello?"

"_Albert Wesker. __**Now.**__"_

She raised a brow, the female voice on the other end of the line making every hair on her body stand on end. Whoever this was sounded like they lived, breathed and oozed sex . . . and they were asking for her fucking lover. She rolled her eyes, biting her tongue as she realized this was probably someone for work. She'd heard plenty of the women within the Mayor's office try to sound sensual when they answered the phone. God now she was his bed warmer and his secretary, what's next? Cook and maid?

"I'm sorry but he's in the shower. I'll have him return your call as soon as he gets out. He has your number right?"

The woman on the other end snorted, laughing darkly into the phone before she answered. And Chaosia felt herself start to get angry. She didn't know who this woman was but she didn't like the sound of her. Or how she made her feel like she was missing something-something huge.

"_Oh he does. He knows me very well, actually. But who pray tell are __**you**__? An __**assistant**__?"_

Chaosia straightened, her shoulders stiffening as her voice dropped; and she knew from the shocked gasp the other woman let out that what she'd said hadn't been expected.

"Albert's girlfriend."

And with that she hung up, tossing the phone back onto the dresser just as Albert stepped out of the bathroom. He had his pants on and one of her towels tossed around his shoulders, his hair damp and slicked back away from his face as he used the edge of the towel to dry his chin. He raised a brow, stepping to her as she moved to meet him. She stretched up as he stopped in front of her, her fingers tracing the beads of water trailing down his chest as his hands settled on her hips.

"What have you been up to, Dear heart? You seem far too innocent at the moment . . ."

She shrugged, her arms reaching up to loop over his shoulders; it becoming harder and harder to fight her grin as he looked to her skeptically. He tugged her into him a little closer, his own face relaxing as she spoke; a smirk tugging at his lips as he shrugged his brows.

"Oh nothing, just dealing with rude people on the phone. I found your shirt."

"So I see . . . Well as nice as it looks on you I'm afraid I must request its return. Especially if you want to go to lunch before you go into work."

She smiled, shaking her head as she stretched up; ghosting her lips over his as she teased him.

"What if I don't want to go to lunch, Albert? What if I just wanted to stay with you until I absolutely had to go in?"

Something he easily returned as he raised a brow, his own grin darkening. He dipped, his mouth moving over hers as he started moving her back towards the unmade bed. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress he nudged her back, falling easily between her spread legs as he kissed her. Nipping at her jaw and neck as he chuckled.

"Oh really? Well I think we can arrange that Dear heart . . . easily."

Hours later Chaosia sighed as she stepped out and into the surprisingly brisk night air. She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to reach into her pocket book and pull out the almost depleted pack of cloves. She'd bought them before she'd gone to the lake . . . and after she'd been awarded her last doctorates she'd promised herself she wouldn't buy another pack.

But now with only four left it was getting harder not to break down and sneak a new one. Especially after nights like tonight. She'd only had two cases- one the suspected (well confirmed) victim of carbon monoxide poisoning and the other the fifty seven year old victim of the motorcycle he had no clue how to drive. And while it hadn't been a particularly bad night her mind had kept going back to the odd woman that had called this morning.

When she'd been with Albert she'd forgotten but without him to occupy her she was starting to ponder who the woman had been. She'd sounded too familiar, too alluring to not have been intimately acquainted with Wesker-or at least not trying to be. Maybe she was an ex? Chaosia shook her head, moving closer to her car as she sighed. But when she was only a few steps away she realized that there was someone leaning against her Chevelle.

Correction: There was an odd woman leaning against the front quarter panel of her Chevelle.

She slowed, her hand sliding into her purse as she dug her keys, making sure to lace the metal through her fingers like claws as she kept her hand in her bag. But as she got three steps from her car the woman pushed away from her Chevelle, giving her a come-hither smile as she smoothed her hands down the front of her red silk dress.

The woman was gorgeous with dark hair, tanned skin and just enough of an Asian hint to her features to make her seem exotic. She smiled, her lips spreading wider; revealing straight white teeth as her bright eyes roamed her. And Chaosia suddenly felt like she was being judged. She stopped, refusing to step closer as the woman spoke. Her voice making her blood run cold.

This was the same woman that had called this morning-here, leaning against her car like she fucking owned it.

"Dr. Shaw I presume."

Chaosia nodded, her eyes narrowed as she tracked the woman's movements. But her fury started to boil at what she said. How dare she? She knew she wasn't some exotic siren like the woman in front of her but she wasn't a slouch!

"I must say I'm almost insulted. You are not what I was expecting to be Albert's girlfriend. At all."

She glared, growling through clenched teeth.

"Just who in the fuck are you?"

The woman grinned, chuckling before she smiled again. And Chaosia decided-as the woman practically purred her answer that she hated her. Because she knew that this woman-this Ada Wong was going to destroy her life. She just didn't know how.


	11. Chapter 11

_****Okay kids, this is an odd update-because seriously things couldn't stay all pretty and simple too long or it would just be boring. _

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><p><em><strong>Cracks in the Motar <strong>_

_October 1996_

Claire Redfield watched as her brother Chris eyed Khail warily while she kept an eye on the two of them as they sat in the Emergency Waiting room. Jill Valentine, her brother's partner-and, in her opinion, unofficial girlfriend- had been severely injured with three other S.T.A.R.s members. Joseph Frost, Barry Burton and Bastian Shaw had all been hit with huge chunks of shrapnel from the bomb their crazed target had been armed with while Frost, Forest, Vickers, Chris and Captain Wesker had all escaped with minor cuts and abrasions.

Claire sighed, turning to glance out the large glass doors of Raccoon Regional Hospital. She knew that the press would be here fairly quickly but she just really hoped that they showed up after they could get home. The group of STARS operatives had become pretty close in the four months since their camping vacation. And her brother was finally accepting that she was seeing Mikhail . . . even if they were arguing a little more than normal.

She turned back, shaking her head at Khail as he tried to coerce Chris into a conversation about cars and bikes. Something they both knew held her brother's interests . . . but that he was deliberately playing stupid on so he didn't have to talk. Maybe she _shouldn't _have ridden with Khail instead of riding her bike. It would've been a lot easier on her brother . . _._

_But the ride had given them the time to work out a good bit of their issues._

A dark shadow fell over her shoulder, causing her to glance back and meet her own gaze reflected in Captain Wesker's dark tinted glasses. She felt her heart race as the man raised a gold brow at the scene with Chris before nodding to her and turning to look out the doors, removing his chipped sunglasses and putting them in a pocket of his vest.

Claire shifted, slightly uncomfortable around the stoic man just because of his sheer size and silence as she turned to look out the windows as well. The man may not be the most talkative or personable . . . but she appreciated him and what he'd done for Chris enough to make the extra effort to cover and accept his social short comings. Especially with Khail's blue-green eyes watching her carefully from beneath his own longer bluish black bangs, as if he was gauging her reaction to the situation.

But then again from everything he'd told her he wasn't really Wesker's biggest fan these days. The man was shaping up to be one of Bastian's closer friends . . . and had-apparently-been sniffing around his own little sister.

"Captain Wesker. Any word on the others, sir?"

Wesker sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall, arms folding over his battered black S.T.A.R.s Kevlar and uniform. He kept his ice blue eyes, strangely void of his trademark sunglasses, on the world beyond the Plexiglas doors, watching something she couldn't see very carefully. His usually groomed blonde hair was still combed back, but a subtle wave was beginning to emerge, giving his already bruised and bandaged appearance an even more surreal appeal. Not that it mattered. The man was still more put together than any of the rest of them, including the ones who hadn't been through the explosion. Claire wondered if anything could make the man look slouchy . . . because even battered and bruised he looked like he'd stepped out of a bad business meeting. Not a full on riot and bomb.

"Not yet, Miss Redfield. Vickers has been cleared to be released within a few hours but as far as I know the others are still in surgery or Pre-Op. They refuse to tell me much of anything useful at the moment."

Chris growled, turning away from Khail and locking eyes with Wesker. Claire groaned, seeing this coming a mile away. Her brother could shoot someone at 1500 yards and not break a sweat . . . but endanger someone he loved and after the adrenaline was gone he was a wreck. She just prayed he would keep his mouth shut. He needed his job almost as bad as she needed him to have his job for her sanity.

"That's such bullshit, Captain. Why can't they just let us know? These people are our team . . . our_** family**_."

Wesker nodded, his full lips pressed in a tight, white line.

"I am fully **aware** of such, Redfield. And I _know _you_** all**_ want answers. But I cannot answer them when they will not answer my own."

Chris deflated, nodding forlornly as Khail and Claire shared a look. Hesitantly, her boyfriend reached out and placed a comforting hand on Chris's shoulder; his kind blue eyes showing nothing but warmth and understanding as he looked up at him, shocked. Claire listened, awed as Khail proved why he was so highly thought of by their friends. His compassion was all encompassing and contagious-when he chose to actually use it instead of being a jerk. He could even get his _sister_ to feel better about something if he put his mind to it.

"It'll be okay, whatever happens. I know it seems pretty bleak but we just have to have some faith and believe that they're strong enough to overcome what's been thrown at them. People have a weird way of overcoming the most impossible odds with some support and understanding. Besides, I know for fact that Bastian is too damned stubborn to let something like a bomb take him out."

Claire smirked as she ribbed him, neither mentioning the dark blush across his cheeks as he realized other people had been listening.

"So says the Psychology major. No wonder you did so damn well in your clinicals, hon."

* * *

><p>Mikhail blushed darker as Chris watched him, reevaluating the worth of him as one of Claire's . . . <em>friends<em> by the merit of his words. He wasn't too thrilled that she was dating the man but hearing that he wasn't always the sarcastic, aggravating little shit he'd almost gutted when they'd gone camping made him feel slightly better. A loud noise brought their attention to the front doors where a lone woman came hurrying in out of the torrential downpour that had started suddenly.

At first-from the rain drenched trench and clacking heels- he'd assumed she was either a doctor or maybe a reporter. But when she stepped closer he saw it was actually Bastian and Mikhail's sister Chaosia. Her eerie light eyes scanned the group of them before she spotted her brother, her voice sounding relieved and fretful all at once as she called out to him.

"Mikhail?"

Khail moved away from them, walking quickly as he stepped forward to hug the drenched girl. He tugged her close, his arm going around her waist as he held her. She looked up at him through her lashes, the thick droplets of water clinging to her lashes and bangs making it hard to tell if she was really crying or if it was the rain.

Though her red and puffy eyes made it easy to see it was both.

"Hey Chaos. How was the ride?"

The girl rolled her eyes, flipping her hair out of her face before looking back up at him. Her bottom lip almost trembled as she spoke, her eyes searching his as she leaned a little heavier into her brother. Chris felt bad for her. She and Khail were close but-according to both Bastian and Claire- they bickered almost constantly. Bastian however was her rock; the one who'd pretty much raised her after her mother had passed away. And from the way she looked about ready to crumble, she wasn't as hopeful that everything was going to be okay.

"What are they saying? How bad is it? I heard on the radio and the news that it was a class 2 explosion-"

Khail shushed her, rubbing her arms; shaking his head at the water that wicked from the coat and fell to the floor in thick droplets. He sighed, stepping back from her before he motioned for her to hand over the thick black coat and her dark blue scarf.

"We don't know anything yet, Chaosia. Just breathe . . . everything's gonna be fine. Okay? You just need to breathe."

She stepped back from him, shrugging out of her coat and tossing it onto the back of one of the ugly hospital couches; dropping her scarf atop it as she reached up and smoothed her hair out of her face. She was dressed in a black satin pants suit, the blazer tailored to fit her; the long cuffs of the white tuxedo shirt peaking beneath the fitted sleeves. The long trousers tapered down her legs, resting above the gleaming black stilettos on her feet; the pointy toes and sharp heels catching the light with every move she made. But what kept drawing his eye was the long glittering silver key dangling from her neck; nestled right above her cleavage.

Chris shook himself, watching as Chaos stepped back into her brother's arms; making the size difference between them a bit more obvious. But even with their differences it was easy for him to see that they were related. And that while she was holding it together she wasn't going to be placated the way that he hoped she would.

"I'll breathe when I know he's okay, Mikhail. I've seen class 1 explosions mutilate people nearly beyond recognition. Even when the victims were over twenty five feet away. And from everything I've heard the squad was right ontop of the bomber. So I'm going to ask again. What are they saying?"

Khail sighed, looking over to Wesker before he repeated what the man had said. And Chris watched Chaos's eyes travel over his captain, checking him over before she turned to the rest of them. She nodded to him as he gave her a tired grin, her eyes traveling to Claire skeptically before she turned back to Khail. And Chris was happy that he saw the same flicker of aggravation there that he'd had when he'd seen her brother.

_Even if it wasn't as pronounced as it usually would be._

Khail looked over to Claire, his sister moving to nod to Chaosia before she looked down at her shoes. He watched Claire inspect the gleaming crocodile skinned heels with unveiled interest before she shook her head, looking up to the older girl with a hesitant smile. She pushed her red hair out of her face, tugging her jacket tighter around her as Chaosia looked her over.

"How do you walk in those things, Chaosia?"

The girl blinked before shrugging, her lips spreading into a tired smile; her fingers pushing through her almost white blonde curls as she ducked her head. And he watched her make an effort to be polite to Claire. Even though he knew she was about as thrilled about the two dating as he was. Something Bastian had laughed over every single time he'd talked to him and Wesker.

"_**Habit**_. I have to at least be able to look Khail and Bastian in the eye or they think they can run all over me."

Claire laughed softly, looking to Khail knowingly as he blushed. But as he went to speak to defend himself the Doctor came out, calling for the S.T.A.R.s team members. Chris followed Wesker, listening intently as the man talked with the physician and asked a whole slew of questions he hadn't even thought of yet. And-from the way the scrubbed man stumbled- the doc hadn't really expected it.

"Is their condition stable?"

The doctor nodded, rubbing his neck sheepishly as he glanced down to his feet. Wesker raised a brow as Chris fought the urge to snap, neither of them very happy with the man's inability to answer a single question. Finally the young doctor looked up, his eyes locking on Chris's. Completely avoiding Wesker's even though he was the one speaking.

"For now, yes. Officer Shaw sustained fairly severe burns while Officer Valentine has cracked ribs and a sprained wrist. Officer Burton is out of surgery now, the nicked arteries in his legs cauterized and closed. We'll be keeping them overnight for observation and- if their condition is stable-may release them as early as the day after tomorrow."

"Shaw was the closest to the blast, Doctor. Are you sure there are no internal injuries or a slow bleed? I would hate for you to discharge him with a clean bill of health only to bury him in a few days' time. The same with Valentine and Burton."

The doctor went to glare at Wesker before he seemed to come to his senses, nodding as he removed his cap.

"We'll make sure to check them again, _**Captain**_ Wesker. But for now there's nothing else you can do. I would suggest you all go home. We'll call you if there's any change."

Chris shrugged as the man turned on his heel and stomped away, turning to Wesker as he sighed and glared after him. He jerked his chin after the retreating surgeon, grinning at his Captain mean spiritedly.

"Gee Captain. I think you hurt his feelings."

Wesker snorted, giving him a pointed look before his eyes traveled over to the others. Claire was standing close to Khail and Chaos, all three looking after the fleeing doctor in confusion. Well, Claire and Khail were confused but Chaosia seemed to be getting angry; her eyes hardening as she glared at the man's back. Chris turned to Wesker, going to explain what he thought was going on before he stopped; stunned. Wesker stepped away from him and towards Chaos, extending his hand as soon as he was close enough to almost touch her. It didn't escape his notice that Khail watched with interest as Chaosia took the offered appendage . . . or that he seemed a little irritated when the girl stepped into him. But what really got him was the way Wesker was acting. Almost like he was concerned with how the girl had pretty much snubbed him.

_He knew they'd gone out together a few times-that she'd visited him at the precinct-but Bastian would've said something if the two of them were actually seeing one another . . . __**right?**_

He moved over, listening to Wesker tell them-well actually Chaos- about what the idiot had just told them. And he watched the girl start to relax more and more, her fingers threading through his as she nodded.

"They're just coming out of surgery . . . and so long as they make it through the night then the staff is hopeful. They will more than likely be hospitalized for a few days just to be safe."

Chaos nodded, tucking stray curls behind her ear as she shifted on her heels; looking up at Wesker through her lashes. Even in the stilettos she was still shorter than her brothers . . . putting her right under Wesker's chin. Chris turned, raising a brow at Claire as she shrugged. She apparently didn't have a clue either.

"And Bastian? He's okay? No internal bleeding or possible organ trauma? Any systemic or nerve damage?"

Wesker nodded, his gloved thumb moving over her knuckles as he spoke to her. But Chris noticed-even as he told her about him dragging her brother out of the flames- he left out the slight detail that Bastian had been closest to the device. And that the only reason he wasn't back there being cut into was because Shaw had actually grabbed him by his vest and tossed him back seconds before the bomb blew.

"He's fine, Chaosia. Burnt and probably sore but fine. They're going to run another full body scan tomorrow just to double check. Redfield got us out before he had time for any damage to be permanent. They're saying that it's safe for us to go home for the night. And that should anything unexpected arise they'll contact us immediately."

Chaosia glanced back at Chris, never letting Wesker's hand drop as she gave him an almost bashful smile. Which was totally different from the way she'd just been looking at his Captain. What in the hell was going on here? Her voice however shook him from his thoughts.

"Thank you, Chris. For watching out for them."

Chris blinked, nodding as she stepped away from Wesker and back towards her family and friends. But even as Claire started asking about where they were going to stay he couldn't help but notice that Wesker was still glancing at Chaosia; her hand still in his. Chris shook his head, turning back to watch Claire move to help Khail get ready to leave. He sighed, moving to follow as the group started towards the door. He just wanted to go home, bathe, eat and then sleep. And maybe, just maybe when he woke up tomorrow he would find out all of this was some weird dream.

* * *

><p>Hours later Chaos was throwing the last of her clothes in the stacked washer, relocating her sheets to the dryer. She knew it would mean she wasn't sleeping for a while but she couldn't stand the thought of sleeping on dirty, stale sheets. She'd been staying up at the lake for the last week; only coming back to go in at the morgue earlier today. And she hadn't had a chance to catch up on her laundry before she'd left. She shuddered, closing the lid as she shook her head.<p>

_God she just wanted to go to sleep . . . because she had to be at the hospital in about three hours._

She turned, going to leave the tiny utility room when she noticed something in the doorway. She jumped, clutching her chest before she realized who it was and glared; trying to steady her racing heart. She pushed by him, shaking her head as she grumbled.

"I see you let yourself in."

He sighed, catching her and pulling her into him; tugging her hips flush with his as he dipped and ran his nose down hers. She stilled before huffing, trying to turn from him before he caught her cheek; tilting her face back up to his. He ran his light blue eyes over her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb as he studied her.

"Are you alright?"

She rolled her eyes before she shrugged, glancing up at him through her lashes. And she had to admit the groan he let out when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth made liquid heat pool in the pit of her stomach. It was a definite rarity for her dealings with him that he actually showed any concern or relinquished anything to her-intentionally or not. Usually he was the one with the upper hand . . . even in the bed they'd only recently begun sharing.

"I don't know . . . I just-ask me tomorrow after he wakes up okay?"

He nodded as he looked her over, his eyes searching hers before his lips spread into a tired grin. He dipped, brushing his lips over hers as he spoke.

"I must admit even under the circumstances I was **_relieved_** to see you."

He tugged her closer, kissing the corner of her lips as she blushed; her fingers tracing the lapels of his uniform shirt seemingly on their own. And she noticed that she actually had to keep herself from sliding her arms around his neck and just leaning into him completely. Maybe it was the shock and stress or maybe it was how badly she'd missed him but she just wanted to touch him. Before her mind started working again and she remembered why she was pissed at him.

"You haven't returned a single call in almost a week, Dear Heart. Would you care to enlighten me as to why?"

She stilled before she shook her head, trying to step away. He kept her close, refusing to let her loose before she growled. She stretched up and grazed his clean shaven chin with her teeth hard enough to let him know she wasn't playing; only to gasp as he growled and slashed his mouth against hers forcefully. After a few intense seconds he pulled back, his icy eyes scanning her face as he pushed her back against the doorframe; lifting her from her feet and positioning himself between her legs. Which easily wrapped around his waist as his mouth started working over her neck and exposed shoulder.

She sighed, threading her fingers through his honey blonde hair as he thrust his hips into hers. She closed her eyes, moaning as he nipped at the curve of her neck. But she knew she needed to answer his question before they got too far into anything. He might not have expected her to cut contact but now that she had she was well aware of how badly he'd want to know even the most miniscule detail of why. He was always analyzing; always plotting and thinking.

She shifted in his hold, leaning in to whisper to him as he continued his assault on her neck.

"I-I _**encountered**_ something that I needed time to _**adjust**_ to. I-can we just talk about it later?"

Wesker pulled back, looking her over as he raised a brow. Apparently he hadn't suspected anything like that. She sighed, rubbing her cheek against his as she continued. Secretly relishing the way he pushed against her even harder. If they could stay like this then she wouldn't have to think or feel about what she'd learned . . . she could just pretend she'd never found out and be happy in his arms again. Wesker however snorted, leaning back in to graze her neck with his teeth; nipping at the spot right below her ear before he answered her. His voice wrapping around her like warm velvet.

_And completely crushing any hope she'd had of just being able to forget._

"No, no I think not. I would _**love**_ to know what you could've possibly encountered to make you withdraw from me. Especially when _**you**_ are the one that insisted we inform your brother we had begun a physical relationship."

She closed her eyes, trying not to flinch at the way he'd worded his response. Before it wouldn't have bothered her . . . but now-now it was like something was grating against her heart with broken glass. He wouldn't even say she was his girlfriend or his lover. She was the person he was in a 'physical relationship' with. It sounded like a polite way of saying she was a bedwarmer.

_Just like the others before her-except apparently for __**her**__._

She stilled, reaching up and pulling his face from her skin; cupping his cheek as she searched his confused tired eyes. She **_knew_** Albert was a genius . . . egotistical and borderline manic sure but he was brilliant. And despite everything she suspected-knew if she was honest with herself- he might be capable of she cared for him. Far more than she should. But something in his tone made her worry. When he made up his mind he went through with it-usually-and it was rarely ever something that benefited_** anyone**_ but _**him.**_ And with the way he generally didn't conform to social convention-only following the strict etiquette of the upper caste when he was around other people- she knew that he was probably clueless/careless as to why what she'd found out had hurt her so badly. Which was exactly part of what had made her pull away from him to begin with. Finally she sighed, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone tenderly.

"_**Please**_ Albert. It's been a bad day-a bad few weeks. I really just want to shower and crawl in bed. I don't want to fight. Not tonight. I almost lost _**Bastian**_. Almost lost _**you.**_ I don't want to risk that twice."

He nodded, tugging her back to him before he kissed her; thoroughly and slowly. She fought him at first but as soon as his tongue pushed past her lips she melted; wrapping herself back around him. Damn him but she couldn't fight him. Not when he was being like this.

"I apologize, Dear Heart. I just find myself . . . puzzled. Mere weeks ago you could barely manage to keep your hands off of me. Now you just seem . . . _distant._ _**Withdrawn**_**.**"

She froze, her eyes closing as they started to prickle with tears. She fought to recover before he noticed but to no avail; his grip on her tightening as he narrowed his eyes at her. When he spoke again his voice was no longer soft and caring; it was hard and commanding. And she knew she was going to have to answer him.

"What is_** wrong?**_ I speak and you flinch as though I've _**struck**_ you. _**What**_ has brought on this **change **Chaosia?"

"I know about Ada. I-I talked to her. She told me everything-about your affair."

His face turned serious, all expression fading almost instantly before he frowned and shook his head. He caught her neck right below her jaw, forcing her face up to his as he glared at her. His eyes blazed with fury as he looked down at her, making her heart ache and twist.

"What do you _**know **_about _**that**_? About _**her**_?"

She gave him a pained look, shaking her head as much as his grip would let her.

"I answered your phone when you stayed-when you were here last. It was that woman. Ada Wong. I told her I would have you call her back-thinking it was something to do with your work but _**she**_ asked who I was. I didn't know what else to say other than your girlfriend-even though you hate the label. She hung up . . . But later that night she was waiting on me when I left the morgue."

She dropped her eyes, closing them to keep the building tears at bay. She knew how he felt about tears and weakness, the very conversation one of the first they'd had once they were both back in Raccoon City. And despite everything else she wasn't about to let him think any less of her than he already did.

_Especially since he **apparently** didn't think much of her at all._

"She told me that you've been sleeping with her, Albert. That you have been steadily for almost three years. Even after I-we . . . and that no matter what promises you were making me she knew you wouldn't stop seeing her. _**She**_ was _**your**_ lover."

He growled, squeezing before he let her go; pushing away from her and stalking towards the door. She sighed as he practically wrenched her front door open, pushing her hair out of her face as she watched him stop just inside the doorframe. Why had she said anything at all? She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her cheek on them as she closed her eyes. She didn't want to watch him wall himself off again.

_It always left her heart aching._

"This was a mistake. Its obvious you refuse to adhere to the terms we set . . . and I am far too tired and involved to play games in the middle of the night to quench your childish yearnings for the illusion of romance. There is _**nothing **_between us but physical attraction. Pure chemistry and biology playing out in its basest form. I had hoped you understood that . . . but for once I was wrong. Good night, Chaosia. Do not meddle in my affairs again."

He moved again, pushing down the steps and through the rest of her house. And all she could think was how stupid she was . . . why had she said anything at all? At least when he was fooling around with Ada-and whoever else- she had him the rest of the time. Now she didn't have him at all. She pushed her face into her hands, finally letting herself cry. Over a man that had just stood there and told her he cared absolutely nothing about her.

_God she really was turning out like her mother._

* * *

><p>Wesker growled, pushing the sleek black 96 Jaguar XJ220 as hard as he could; listening to the engine gear and shift in time with his own movements. He knew it was only a few minutes to his own house but right now he didn't care. He just wanted to get home and make a call . . . then he could finally bury the issue of Chaosia altogether. He'd been worrying- fretting over her before he'd gone on that stupid assignment, trying to figure out why she wasn't answering his calls. He'd done as she asked, told her brother that he was sleeping with her. And then she'd up and disappeared, refusing to answer her cell or either of the phones at her home. When he'd gone to the morgue to check on her, to see if she was just overworking and had forgotten to call he'd been informed by Connors that she'd taken a week off.<p>

He'd been flabbergasted, refusing to admit to Bastian that he hadn't known that Chaosia had gone out of town. Or why she wasn't talking to anyone. Only for her to stroll into the hospital tonight like it was nothing.

_And even then she barely spared him a glance until he'd started telling her about her brother._

He snorted, turning into his driveway quickly before he cut the lights. He let the engine idle quietly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd known going into all of this that the girl was younger-therefore naïve- and he'd need to tread lightly. But he'd never expected to have go to the lengths he'd gone to . . . or for her to be knowledgeable of his affairs outside of their partial relationship.

But they'd done both.

He sighed, shaking his head before he slumped back into the seat; trying to let the stress of the day dissipate. First the shit with Irons, then not knowing what to make of her going AWOL. Then the riot and bomb incident . . . God he hated to say it but after his shock had worn off he'd been happy to see her. Actually almost damn near thrilled.

And she'd been willing to indulge him anything he'd had planned until he'd asked her what was wrong. God and then she'd mentioned Ada. But now that he thought about it her tone hadn't been resentful or accusing. Actually it had seemed normal; her wording clipped and she'd refused to look at him but she hadn't screamed and carried on the way she did with her brothers. It was like she'd accepted it had happened- would probably continue to- and while she wasn't fine with it she knew she couldn't stop it.

_And **he'd** gone and overreacted._

Maybe she wasn't the only one with grave misconceptions about the depth of their relationship. Because he'd been angry to have been discovered or mentioned . . . but not because he'd worried over his cover and his position. He'd been more terrified-even if just for a moment- that she was going to turn away from him. So he'd turned from her first.

He shook his head, turning his lights back on as he backed out of his driveway. He had to be at the hospital before six-and then the office as soon as he could-but work be damned. He needed to talk with William- who was going to help him fix this. _**Now.**_ And he and Ada Wong were going to have a nice long conversation about what she could and could not disclose to his damned whatever she was.

* * *

><p><em>yeah . . .<em>

Chaosia rolled, trying to get comfortable in her big empty bed. She sniffled, fluffing another pillow before finally giving up and flopping back into the mounds of down and cotton. She might be distraught over what had happened with Alber-Captain Wesker but she was not going to lay here and not sleep because he wasn't here. So what if he'd pretty much taken to staying here every night he wasn't on duty . . . and so what he was probably out with that-that Ada woman. She might not like the idea but until he proved otherwise they were through. She whimpered, rolling again and burying her face in the nearest pillow and screamed.

She had to snap out of this! She was not going to end up like her mother.

Sighing to herself, she tossed the covers back and got up, heading to her bathroom to soak away her sorrows. It wasn't like she was actually going to sleep with everything she'd had happen the past few days anyway. She moved past her dresser, flinching when her phone rang. She picked the Star-tac up, flipping the thick black cell open to check the caller ID; nearly dying when she saw who it was.

But why was he calling her?

She almost hit the talk button when she stopped herself. The hospital would call her before they called him, meaning that this wasn't about her brother. This was him probably calling her to tell her they were through. And that was something she'd really rather listen to after she checked on her brother in a few hours. She hit ignore before tossing the phone back on the dresser, shaking her head as the phone started to vibrate again.

She moved towards the tub, running a hand down her face as she started crying again; trying not to let herself start fretting over it. Again. She'd lived before Albert Wesker and as much as it might hurt right now she could live without him. She just needed to live through the next few days first.


	12. Chapter 12

_All i'll say is that stress shock and anger can get the best of everyone. A little OOC here but hey, the guy was almost-oh you'll see. _

* * *

><p><strong>Clinging to the Cracks in our Foundations<strong>

Chaosia moved slowly through the halls of Raccoon Regional, trying to keep herself together as she pushed past the other members of STARS. She knew it was petty but she really just wanted to see her brother. Without all of these other people in her way. She nodded to Frost and Speyer as she stepped into her brother's room, relieved as the two nodded to her as they stepped out and into the hall. She shut the door behind them, turning to look at Bastian as he pushed to sit; wincing as he reached up and held his abdomen.

She moved to sink onto the bed beside him, tossing her jacket and purse into the empty bedside chair before her hands reached to check his middle. He took in a shallow, shuddering breath as she lifted his gown. Her breath hitching as she saw all of the scars and wounds taped, bandaged and stitched; the burns angry and red against her brother's tanned skin. She looked back up, her eyes locking with his as she felt the tears start to pool. And when he reached out to wipe them away, with his burnt bruised and taped hand; IVs stuck into his veins she felt her resolve crumble.

"Aw c'mon kid. Don't cry. I'm fine. Just burnt and sore. Hell they're gonna let me go tomorrow. So stop fretting okay?"

She nodded, closing her eyes as hot tears trailed down her cheeks. And Bastian sighed, tugging her into him; both of them careful of his injuries-and IVs-as he threaded his fingers through her curls. She rested her cheek over his heart, letting herself cry as he shushed her; petting her hair soothingly as he spoke.

"Hey, _**hey**_. I'm **_fine_**. See? I'm fine. Its okay . . . I promise I'm okay. Everything's going to be fine little sister."

She nodded, trying not to snub as she buried her face in his hospital gown; her fingers knotting in the fabric as she continued to sob. She knew she was being an idiot but she just couldn't help it. The world had changed so much in the past three weeks . . . and last night she'd had to face the reality that she couldn't control a damn thing.

"I know, Bastian. I was at work and heard about the riots and bomb. And when they called me and told me you guys were there-God Bastian I was so scared."

He nodded, pressing his lips to the crown of her curls; keeping her tight against him.

"I know. But we're fine."

She nodded, sitting back as she wiped at her eyes. She'd at least been smart enough to forgo her makeup and donned her tortoise shell glasses, leaving her hair pulled to the side of her neck in a sloppy fishtail braid. The huge chunky cableknit truffle grey sweater was hanging off of her left shoulder; exposing the white tanktop beneath it as well as the freckles scattered over her flesh. And the dark ripped jeans were just the slightest bit baggy, tucked into the charcoal riding boots she'd drug out of the back of her closet.

Bastian grinned, caressing her cheek as he shook his head.

"You look like hell, little sister. I don't think I've seen **those** boots in _**years.**_"

She rolled her eyes, turning to reach out for her purse. She'd brought him his spare glasses so he could see the people who would be parading through his room and she needed to give them to him. But as her fingers brushed the leather strap of her bag she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced over, feeling her heart clench when she realized it was Wesker.

He was already dressed in a fresh STARS uniform, new sunglasses clipped on the front pocket and his gun shoulder holster already on. He stood there just outside the doorframe, his hands hanging listlessly by his side as he looked her over. But how he was looking at her made her want to run away. Like she was the cause of all of the hurt and anger between them. She shook herself, turning away from him as she grabbed the bag; refusing to acknowledge him as she dug through the deep purse and found the clunky glasses case.

She thrust the case into her brother's hands, giving him a pointed look as he raised a brow. She knew he noticed the change in demeanor between her and Wesker but she wasn't going to talk about it. Not when she was here to see him. She pushed the glasses case in his hands a little harder, reaching up and tapping the fresh bruise beneath his left eye lightly.

"Go ahead and put these on, Bastian. I know they're not as _stylish_ as your newer ones but I didn't have time to run by your house before I came. They'll have to do until I can get the others."

Bastian nodded, turning to look at Wesker before he shrugged; opening the case and grimacing at the thick black square rounded corner frames and even thicker lenses. He looked up at her again, his eyes pleading and watery as his bottom lip started to quiver. And Chaosia felt herself smile inspite of how she felt. Bastian had always hated these glasses . . . ever since their mother had first picked them out years ago. And seeing him react like this made her feel a little better about his condition.

If he felt good enough to joke around then he was going to be okay.

"Aw c'mon Chaos . . . do I _**have**_ to?"

She crossed her arms, giving him a deadpan look as she raised a brow.

"Do you want to _**see?**_"

He rolled his eyes, fingering the thick plastic frames ruefully as he shrugged; his voice soft but sarcastic as he spoke.

"Not really. I'm probably going to sleep most of the day after you leave."

She rolled her own eyes, taking the glasses from him and pushing them up his nose; hooking the arms over his ears as she nodded. She eased back, grinning at the way his pout deepened. Finally he brother looked over her shoulder again, pleading to Wesker as he finally acknowledged his presence.

"Aw man. Captain can't _**you**_ do something with her?"

Wesker stepped into the room, coming to stand just behind her at the foot of the bed. And she could feel the weight of his stare burning down her spine as he spoke; causing her to shiver. He sounded fine but she knew better. He was still pissed at her for bringing up his little whore. She snorted to herself; mentally rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation.

_He had cheated on her . . . **she** was the one supposed to be pissed. **Not** him._

"Unfortunately Shaw I've discovered that there is _**very**_ little to be done about her. When she sets her mind to something she usually does it. Even if it would benefit her **_not_ **to do so."

Chaosia bristled, closing her eyes as she fought to keep herself in control. She didn't know whether she was going to cry or lash out and sock him in the jaw but she knew she had to keep herself together. She was so intent on keeping her composure that she flinched when a hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, turning to stare up at Wesker as he looked down to her; his eyes moving over her face as she narrowed her own.

"Jeez Chaosia, dial it back a notch. You let her sleep at all last night boss?"

Wesker looked away first, looking back up to Bastian with a nod; keeping his hand on her shoulder as he spoke to her brother. And Chaosia had to wonder what in the hell had gotten into him. Did he seriously expect her to act like he hadn't stormed out of her house the night before? Like she hadn't confronted him about screwing around with another-gorgeous- woman?

"Get some rest Shaw. The others aren't even awake yet. We'll be back some time later."

Bastian nodded, stretching before he settled back into the covers; squeezing her hand before he let it fall back to the covers. She watched his eyes close, his lips drawing down into a tiny grimace as he shifted. She sighed, reaching out and brushing his hair from his forehead; pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"He's right, Bastian. Get some sleep. I'll tell the nurse to check on you, okay?"

He nodded, sighing as she eased back. She watched him drift off, running her fingers over his knuckles as his breathing evened out before she stood. She didn't even glance to Wesker as she gathered her bag, shrugging into her coat as she made her way to the door. He followed her to the nurse's station, waiting while she spoke to the Charge Nurse about administering another dose of pain medication-something she'd learned Bastian had refused the stubborn ass- before he'd walked beside her to the elevator.

She hit the proper button, refusing to even glance at him when he sighed; his eyes locked on her as they waited. Finally he snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned to track the progress of the lift.

"You are being ridiculous, Chaosia. You _**will**_ have to speak to me eventually."

She didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the door in front of her; thankful that her bangs and glasses were keeping him from clearly seeing her tearing eyes. And that by some grace of God she was keeping herself together. He'd done his damage the night before; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his jibe. But when she stepped inside he struck, hitting the parking button before she had a chance. And as soon as they were between floors he moved between her and the twin metal doors, his eyes locked on her downturned face.

He reached out, catching her chin before she pulled away; still refusing to speak to him as he growled. He snarled down at her, stepping even closer as he dipped; their noses almost touching.

"Goddamnit Chaosia. Say _**something!**_"

She closed her eyes, fighting to keep her voice level as she spoke; mentally whooping for joy when she sounded normal instead of heartbroken and desolate.

"There's nothing to say, Captain Wesker."

His eyes narrowed as he caught her face in his hands; tilting her jaw up until she had to look at him. He was pissed, madder than she'd ever seen him. But what got her was how he actually looked. Before-at a glance- he'd seemed like his normal composed self but up close it was easy to point out the tiny flaws to his normally meticulous appearance. His eyes seemed tired and dark around the edges, light bruising from lack of sleep staining beneath his lids while his hair was starting to wave rebelliously. His jaw was sporting the barest hint of blonde stubble, like tiny flecks of platinum and gold scattered over his lower face and even though his uniform was clean and pressed she could see where it hadn't been _freshly_ pressed the way he preferred.

She doubted anyone else would notice but after almost four months of dealing with him continuously-three of them dating him; two of them sharing his bed- she knew what to look for. As amazing as it seemed _**something**_ had rattled Albert Wesker enough to affect him. She snorted mentally, closing her eyes again; trying not to wince when his grip tightened.

_Probably the knowledge he'd pretty much gotten blown up._

His voice brought her back to rights, her eyes snapping open on their own as she glared at him.

"You had plenty to say last night."

She blinked, feeling the rage that had been strangely absent start to bubble forth; flowing into her veins as she glared up at him. Her fist came up, connecting with his face hard enough for him to stagger slightly on his feet; his hand falling from her face to cover his own. His nose practically poured bright red blood as he looked to her in shock, the clearly baffled expression on his features enough to make her feel just the tiniest bit surer.

"You're right. I did. And if you would've stayed and talked with me-tried to work through it instead of running off like a spoiled child you would've heard it."

He glared, bringing his hand down as he slung the blood from his fingertips; moving to tower over her again.

"And I can't hear it _**now?**_ It's not the end of the world, Chaosia. I slept with someone else. I called, tried to talk to you last night-"

"But you didn't _**stay**_, Albert. You ran away because you got pissed-even when you didn't have a fucking right to be! _**I **_didn't make a fool of you! _**I**_ didn't betray you. I was there for you-only you! Just like I told you if you didn't want to be with me then you needed to let me know! And I wasn't going to discuss this with you over the fucking phone. Am I really worth that little that I didn't warrant some kind of _**effort?**_ You call business associates to discuss unpleasant things. You call doctors and subordinates to tell them they're not doing well. You don't call the woman you've been seeing-_**fucking**_- to talk about the fact she found out you've been fucking someone else too!"

The elevator dinged, the doors parting as she went to push past him. But he moved, catching her arm as he looked down to her; his eyes almost repentant before they hardened again. And she knew everything she needed to from that look. He couldn't admit that he'd been wrong and she wasn't going to be her mother.

_They were done. _

"Let go of me, Captain. And do not bother contacting me again. I'll send everything back to you as soon as my brother's stable."

His grip tightened, his voice soft but dangerous.

"This isn't over, Dear Heart. We are _**going **_to finish this."

She looked up at him, shaking her head as she reached out and wiped his nose with her sleeve; letting her see the split lip and the red bruise above his mouth. She looked over his face, her thumb grazing his torn lip as she spoke; pulling back and wrenching out of his grasp. And as she walked towards the exit she was thankful he didn't follow her. Because her big words wouldn't hold up if he could see her crumble.

"I may love you Albert Wesker but I don't share-not with something like this. And I refuse to be one of your whores."

* * *

><p>Hours later Albert Wesker sat in his office, his elbows resting hard on his desk as he kept his head in his hands. He had no idea when things had gotten to this point. But as he moved, pinching the bridge of his sore nose in frustration he had to admit to himself that he'd fallen. Ever since he'd stormed into the office-because apparently being Captain meant that he couldn't take the day after an explosion. Oh sure Irons couldn't tell him that he had to work it but he had been strongly encouraged to at least make an appearance - he hadn't been able to concentrate on the words before him.<p>

Which is how he'd ended up sequestered in his office, pretending to do paperwork while he brooded; trying to figure out what in the hell he'd gotten himself into. He sighed, sitting back in his chair as he reached into his pocket; tugging his cellphone out. He clicked the screen, looking over the incoming calls before he growled. He slammed the phone down, uncaring that he heard the faceplate crunch. William could always replace it if he'd fucked it up too badly.

_Why in the fuck hadn't she called?_

He ran his hand over his face again, grimacing at the stubble on his jaw. He hadn't even thought to shave until he'd gotten to the office, his anger and-if he was completely honest- hurt at how she'd reacted. The phone on his desk rang, his hand scooping it next to his ear before it ever got to its second chime.

"Wesker."

_" . . ."_

He listened to the silence on the other end, raising a brow before he snorted; going to hang up the phone when someone finally spoke. And while it was a Shaw on the other end it was the last one he'd ever thought would call him.

"_Captain Wesker? It's Khail, Khail Shaw."_

"_**And?**_ What do you need, Mikhail?"

He heard the boy gulp before he muttered something to someone near him, his voice muffled as he obviously covered the phone. Wesker sighed, ticking away the seconds in his head before he snapped. Letting some of his aggravation with the boy's sister fall on him as he barked into the phone.

"_**Well?**_ Speak up boy. I do not have all day."

"_I uh, well I need you to-Aww shit. Look man-er **sir**. I need someone to go check on Chaos. She isn't answering her phone and Bastian's worried. Said she was acting weird this morning when she came to see him. And then again when he talked to her at work. He's worried . . . and quite frankly so am I. "_

Wesker rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to snort as he pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"And _**why**_ can you not accomplish the task of checking on her?"

"_Because I'm helping Chris and Claire get Jill home, sir. And Bastian said I should call you to do it anyway. Though why I don't have a fucking clue."_

Wesker stilled, perplexed as what the boy was saying sunk in. Chaosia wasn't even speaking to her family now? And why in the hell did her brother not know they'd been together? He found himself speaking before he even thought it through; outing himself to the boy for no other reason than he wanted to. How dare her make him tell Bastian they were _**fucking**_-as she'd so eloquently phrased it-when she hadn't even bothered to inform Mikhail that they were seeing one another!

"Because we're involved, boy."

Khail sputtered, nearly choking over the line.

"_**What?** When in the hell did that-oh shut up Chris. I'll tell you in a minute. Jeez. No it's not about Claire."_

Wesker rolled his eyes, his aggravation fizzling away as he tried not to snort.

"We have been for months. If you have any other questions ask Bastian. Now is Chaosia still at work or was she supposed to be at home?"

* * *

><p>Khail growled, tossing his phone onto the Redfield's couch before he closed his eyes; trying to keep himself under control. Claire-not to mention Chris and Jill- didn't need to see him freak. Even if he was going to kill Bastian when he got home. How had he not told him that their sister was with an icicle like his boss? That she'd pretty much crawled in bed with a fucking monster just like their father?<p>

He turned, seeing Claire step into the room before she stilled; her eyes worried even as he forced his breathing to even out. He and Bastian were going to have words as soon as he was better. And then he was going to climb Albert Wesker's ass to kick it. That bastard wasn't going to hurt his sister. Not if he could help it.

"Khail? What's wrong? Does Captain Wesker not want to go and check on your sister?"

Khail snorted, rolling his eyes as Chris stepped back into the living room; nodding to the eldest Redfield before he sank onto the couch. God he'd just wanted to come back to Raccoon and see his family, to spend time with Claire and try to get Chris to not actively hate him. He didn't even want to think about dealing with what he'd just found out.

"Oh he's perfectly fucking happy to go check on her. Considering that he's apparently been seeing her."

Claire stilled, shocked while Chris hissed; seeming almost happy about it. Khail looked at him incredulously while Claire's confusion faded to aggravation; glaring at her brother before she smacked him. But Chris wasn't deterred, almost giddy as he looked to them.

"_**Shit!**_ I **_knew_** it man. I knew something was up last night. He was pissy even before we lit out! And then when she got there he was all fine again. Until she started ignoring him. Fuck man! Jill and Barry are never gonna believe this-"

Claire reached out and grabbed his shirt, giving him a pointed look as she warned him.

"Don't you dare say a word, Christopher. If they wanted everyone to know then they would tell them. He's the Captain of STARS and she's a pathologist for the city. It could cause problems if someone wanted to make a big deal out of it."

Khail snorted, looking to Claire.

"Really Claire? Then why didn't she tell **_me,_** huh? Or hell why didn't Bastian tell me?"

She turned and looked at him like he had two heads before rolling her eyes, crossing her arms as he gave him a deadpan look.

"Uh probably the same reason I didn't tell Chris that we were dating the first two months we were together. So you wouldn't do something to embarrass her-and yes you would have Chris so don't even start- or try to run him off. I mean, your sister isn't exactly Ms. Personality. And neither is he. I don't really think that they would've worked if someone had started interfering."

Khail went to open his mouth but she stopped him, showing the maturity that she rarely got to display when they were within the Raccoon City limits. She caught his hand, shaking her head at him.

"I don't think they will now either, Khail. She's your sister and as much as you hate the idea of someone hating her its gonna have to happen if you want her to be happy one day. Now I'm not saying that Captain Wesker is the person who's going to make that happen but what if he is? And what if you acting like a caveman and being an ass makes it to where they don't work? Are you gonna do that to her?"

Khail looked to her before growling, throwing his hands in the air.

"But _**him?**_ He's so-so damn _**cold!**_ I mean he barely spoke ten words to her last night-"

"She wasn't really talking to him either, Khail. And she was worried about your brother. I can tell you that while she was worried about him Wesker was second on her mind. Just give them some time. Watch them together. It could just be something that dies quick, you know?"

"But he's . . . he's just _**wrong**_ for her. I mean, I see her with someone like _**your**_ brother over him!"

Claire rolled her eyes as Chris grinned, sinking beside him on the couch. He tossed his arm over his shoulders, chuckling as Claire walked out of the room.

"Oh my God! I'm going to check on Jill!"

Chris laughed, shaking his head as Khail snorted; sinking deeper into the sofa with a huff. But Chris's words did make him feel a little better. Even if he knew that the two of them would never be able to act on the impulse it was nice to know someone understood. He just never thought it would be Chris Redfield.

"Hey look on the bright side man. He breaks her heart we can take him out. And then she can even hide the body."

* * *

><p>Chaosia locked the door behind her after she stepped into her home, trying to make herself feel anything as she moved through her living room slowly. But she was numb . . . and not in a good way. Everything with Bastian had been bad enough but when she'd gotten to the morgue she'd had three bodies to deal with; each worse than the last. But at least she'd been occupied, her mind unable to wonder as her fingers had weighed organs and recorded her findings. Now that she was home though it seemed like her mind wasn't going to give her any peace.<p>

She sighed, moving up the steps towards her bedroom; her head hung as she ran a shaking hand through her hair. She pushed into her room, intent to move towards the bathroom when she stopped. One of Albert's dress shirts was on the floor near her hamper. She bent picking it up and dropping it in before shaking her head. To be so meticulous Albert-Wesker was always forgetting about that. His own home-the one time she'd spent the night, God that was pathetic to think of- had been pristine; spotless. But once he got here it was like his man habits crept out of their container-in small ways. A random sock here, a shirt there; small things that would normally aggravate her but with him she was almost thankful to see them.

She'd taken the slack in his strenuous habits as a sign that he was getting comfortable with her. And it was always funny to see how he would get so close to the hamper then fall short. But now she was beginning to wonder if she had just tried to make something small significant to ease her own suffering; adding emphasis on a small inconsequential habit to add to her 'illusion of romance'.

_God he'd all but told her she was nothing to him, that everything between them was nothing. _

She settled on the edge of the tub, turning on the water before she just sat there and watched the tub fill. She blinked, reaching up to brush away the tears that were spilling down her cheeks freely now as her hurt started to slowly seep back into her chest. But she didn't know why. She'd known from the start that even though he told her that he felt something for her that it wasn't anywhere close to what she'd come to feel for him. And she'd known that meant he wouldn't be tied to her the way she was to him. She called him her boyfriend-hell almost everyone they knew did . . . but no one called her his girlfriend.

She knew he wanted her . . . but that wasn't enough-not anymore. She sighed, reaching out and touching the water before turning it off. She had some decisions to make . . . but first she was going to soak in a hot bath, have half of her scotch and go to sleep. Alone in the bed she'd shared with him more in the past two months than she didn't.

She stood, shedding her clothes before sinking into the water and dipping beneath its surface. God it was days like this that she just wished the world would swallow her whole. Because it was the only way she wasn't going to hurt. Despite all of her intentions-all of her trying she was essentially an afterthought-just like her mother- and the one person who she wanted more than anything didn't want her back. Not the way she wanted him at least.

She exhaled, watching the bubbles float to the top before closing her eyes again. At least after all of this was said and done she would be stronger for it. Right?

* * *

><p>Wesker pushed through the doors of the morgue, moving deliberately towards Chaosia's office. She still wasn't answering any of her phones and she'd yet to return a single call. He growled, moving past one of the open autopsy bays when a voice caught his attention. He stopped, turning to see Chaosia's supervisor-Dr. Connors- step towards the door.<p>

"Ah, Captain Wesker. I didn't think that a few dead homeless johns demanded the attention of STARS commanding officer. Especially so soon after being so close to joining us here. What can we do for you?"

He sighed, reaching up and adjusting his sunglasses; trying not to grind his teeth. He didn't particularly care for the woman-not after the hassle she usually forced upon his lover and all of the issues she'd caused with giving her the first prototype for G to classify- but he knew he needed to play nice. Especially if he wanted to get to Chaosia to check on her.

"I'm actually just here to see Dr. Shaw, Dr. Connors. Is she in her office?"

Dr. Connors just looked at him skeptically before shaking her head. The woman was already in the standard scrubs and apron, the thick gloves up to her elbows as she lifted her visor. But her words made his blood chill slightly. Mikhail had sworn she was supposed to be at work. So to hear this was concerning . . . and enraging.

"No actually. She wasn't feeling well so I told her to go home almost two hours ago."

She sighed, looking to him pointedly before turning to close the door leading into the hallway; leaving them alone in the hallway. She looked him over before crossing her arms, her hands leaving red mars against the pale green of her scrubs.

"Look Captain. It isn't my business what happens in the lives of the people that work for me. Actually I try to stay out of as much as I can. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to what's happening between you and Shaw. That being said . . ."

She turned, glancing over her shoulder through the small window before she glanced back at him; continuing in a slightly lower tone. Like she was aware of the fact that the walls anywhere in Raccoon City always had eyes and ears.

"I will hold to what I told Chaosia. I am not going to cause an issue. Just tell her that if she needs time-because of what occurred yesterday then she's to take all she desires. Chaosia is one of my best pathologists . . . and she's the only certified viral pathologist here in Raccoon that _**isn't**_ on Umbrella's payroll."

She shifted on her feet, Wesker almost choking on the irony of their situation. Connors was no fool but she had no clue that the woman she worked with had helped Umbrella infiltrate her precious morgue. Actually neither woman knew it. He nodded for her to continue, looking to her expectantly. God could she not just get to the point so he could go fix his wayward little lover?

"And that is an amazing boon to this office, believe me. Not having to rely on those vultures has made life easier. That's not to say we can't survive a few days without her. How is her brother?"

Wesker gave her a tight smile, trying to be as personable as he could be. But it bothered him for some reason that Chaos hadn't even bothered to tell her superior about Bastian. The woman obviously cared and she was being overly considerate. Why had the girl not taken advantage of it? He knew she rarely took days off but seriously she was a psychologist. She knew what this kind of shock-the sheer trauma and stress of nearly losing someone close to her-could do.

"He's fine, Dr. Connors. Sore but whole. And since you've offered, I'll be sure to keep Chaosia home for the next few days. When would you like her back?"

Connors grinned, giving him a pointed look before she shook her head; chuckling.

"Well she's only on for three days this week-and she worked most of the first one. Keep her the next two and I'll do my best to make sure she can have her whole four off. And if she needs more time then just let us know."

Wesker nodded, moving towards the front door as Connors stepped back into the autopsy bay; neither bothering to officially end the conversation. Suddenly it was so easy to see just why Chaos was so at ease with most of his-and William's- habits. The other people she worked with were just as bad. He pushed through the double doors, moving towards the parking complex that held his car.

Now he just needed to find Chaosia . . . and try to keep himself from strangling her once he did.

* * *

><p>Chaosia walked into her bedroom, looking over the empty bed before she sighed; toweling her curls dry before she tossed the damp cloth aside. She shook her head, running her fingers through the forming knots as she slipped beneath the covers; scooting to the middle so she could at least try to get comfortable.<p>

It was still so odd to crawl into this thing by herself now but she needed to get used to it. She and Albert were over . . . and since she wasn't going to actively seek out anyone to replace him-at least for the time being-then she needed to relearn sleeping alone. Even if it was definitely going to be colder without him there. She shivered, curling beneath the covers before she sighed; reaching out to tug the left pillow-his pillow-into her. Okay tomorrow she could master sleeping alone. Tonight she just wanted to actually sleep.

She closed her eyes, her nose buried in the cotton covered down as she forced her breathing to even out. The room was dark and cool, the only light from the lone street lamp outside streaking in through the slit in her drapes. And as she listened to the barest sounds of Raccoon pass by it was easier for her to start relaxing.

Chaosia was just starting to doze when she heard something downstairs. She furrowed her brows, refusing to open her eyes as she listened. It had sounded like her door had opened and shut . . . but Khail was with Bastian. She kept her ears trained on the downstairs and her home, listening for any signs of an intruder before she shrugged; letting herself start to doze again. God she was getting paranoid . . . now she was hearing imaginary burglars.

Just as she was-finally-succumbing to a true sleep she felt the bed sink in behind her. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized what was happening. Not only had she actually heard someone enter her home but now they were crawling into bed with her. And she didn't have anything-anything!- to even try to defend herself with. She forced herself to relax, trying to keep as still as she could-to seem asleep so she would have the element of surprise- when an arm reached out and tugged her back. She jerked, trying to pull away when she felt lips hit the bend of her neck.

She stilled, holding her breath as the intruder pulled her flush against him; her back settled right against his chest. His other arm came up and looped under her head as she clenched her eyes shut tight, cradling her to him as he ran his lips over her neck. She shuddered, afraid to open her eyes in fear that all of this was some kind of dream. But his words shocked her into turning to him.

"We have been looking everywhere for you, Dear Heart. And here you are in bed. Your brothers are going to be furious."

She blinked, looking him over before everything clicked. Her brothers had been looking for her? And for him to say this . . . he had been as well. And now he thought that-just because he was here-that everything between them was fine. Well he was wrong. She sighed, shaking her head as she tried to get away. It really sucked that they were so much stronger than she was but she had meant what she'd told him.

"What are you doing here, Albert? I thought I told you-"

His mouth sealed over hers, moving frantically as he tugged her even closer; one had sprawling over her stomach. His hands moved, one settling on her hip and the other knotting in the curls at the base of her skull. When she didn't kiss him back he growled, using his tongue to push past her lips. And the second his touched hers she knew she was done for. She melted against him, letting his mouth ravage hers as the hand on her hip slipped beneath her sweater and night gown.

His fingers traced up and over her stomach before squeezing her breast. She whimpered, causing him to repeat the action to the other before his fingers trailed back down her abdomen and to the apex of her thighs. He brushed her through her panties, causing her to moan. He chuckled, pulling his mouth away from hers long enough to chide her.

"I _**know**_ what you **said**, Dear Heart."

She glared up at him, opening her mouth again to refuse him when he dipped; pressing his forehead to hers. His blue eyes searched hers as his smirk fell, his face becoming serious as he traced her again.

"I just don't _**understand** _you. You've had plenty of lovers-more than your brothers know of. I'm sure you've never asked monogamy of them-"

She growled, tugging back as she pushed at him; the action so unexpected that he actually nearly fell from the bed. She took him in, the same slightly rumpled shirt and pants that he'd had on earlier. But she could tell-from the slightly longer scruff and the bags beneath his eyes- that he hadn't slept either. Well too bad for him because he wasn't sleeping here.

He had a home-one that she rarely ever got invited to or allowed to set foot in. And by God he was sleeping there tonight. And every other night for the foreseeable future.

"I don't _**ask**_ for anything, Albert. I just _**expected**_ for you to treat me with the same respect I showed you. If I were sleeping with another person then I would tell you. I wouldn't let you walk into an ambush . . . and I sure as hell wouldn't react the way you did last night."

He sighed, closing his eyes before he opened them; giving her a deadpan look.

"You honestly expect me to believe that you _**aren't**_ insisting upon monogamy? Your brother was entirely sure that-"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she snorted.

"My brothers don't know the first thing about my sex life, Albert. They know what they want to believe. Nothing else. I've had casual relationships before and its never been a problem. I'm pissed because I didn't even warrant an explanation."

He quirked a brow before narrowing his eyes, giving her a skeptical look.

"And what of your propensity for sharing, Dear Heart? You were rather blunt in informing that you refused to be a whore."

She smirked, shrugging.

"Actually I recall saying I refused to be one of _**your**_ whores. I told you before that I was serious about this. I didn't want just a fling or random hook ups. I wanted a relationship-even if it _**was**_ casual. And part of any relationship is letting me know who else is in it with us."

"If I had told you about Ada then you would've _**ended**_ our relationship-"

"Our relationship _**is**_ over. Because you lied to me. The other is just the icing on the cake-"

"I slept with Ada before I slept with you. I have barely even spoken to her since then."

She snorted, glaring at him.

"Oh well of course then. That makes everything perfectly fine. You've barely slept with her at all while we've been together. Gee, don't I just feel cherished. Oh wait. There I go again, trying to craft illusions of romance from a purely physical relationship. Stupid silly little me."

* * *

><p>Wesker stilled, his shoulders setting hard as he glared at her. His eyes moved over her face, seeing just how much of this was her trying to salvage her pride and how much was hurt. God she was being a vindictive little bitch tonight!<p>

"I told you that I didn't want anything but to explore our chemistry, girl. It isn't my fault if you decided that meant we were exclusive-"

"Then you should be happy that we're over; seeing as in how we weren't really anything to begin with. Now get out of my house, Albert. Before I throw you out myself."

He raised a brow, looking her over.

"You wouldn't _**dare.**_"

She glared at him, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"Try me."

He pushed to his feet, glaring down at her hard enough for her to fidget. But she didn't resend the order. Actually she jerked her chin to the dresser, her eyes hard as she issued another. He blinked, unable to process what was happening here. He was the one who did away with bedmates and dalliances when he grew bored. He was the one who told people to cut contact and to leave him be.

"Leave the key."

He growled, digging the keys out of his pocket before he worked to liberate her door key; slinging the metal onto the dresser next to her bedroom door. He turned, intent to leave when his anger got the better of him; his lips moving on their own. He had no idea why he was reacting this way but he was. He was angry-hurt- that she was so easily tossing everything aside.

"Do **_not_ **expect me to forget this, Chaosia."

She shrugged, refusing to look back at him as she turned. But he could see that her shoulders had started to sag slightly. And her voice was losing its bite. Actually the longer she spoke the more despondent she sounded . . . like she was giving up on even trying to speak at all.

"I don't, Albert. But answer this . . . if I'd told you I had taken another lover how would _**you've**_ reacted?"

He glared at her, his pride and ego both surging and dying at once. _How __**dare**__ she?_ He turned, stalking out of the bedroom and down the steps; moving through her living room and towards the front door. But it was only after he was outside, getting ready to slam the door behind him that he realized how he'd reacted. And that-despite how much he wished otherwise- she had a point.

God he hated it when she was right . . . but he hated it even more that she was right about this.

He'd had lovers that had other relationships-married and engaged women, other scientists dedicated to their work like a spouse, Ada with her others and John. And he hadn't ever really worried about the fact that he was sharing them with anyone or anything. But just the thought that he might've-even just for one night-shared Chaosia was enough to make him livid.

Wesker sighed, stalking back into the house and up the steps. Goddammit but he was going to fix this. And he didn't care what he had to do to accomplish it.

* * *

><p>Albert Wesker stood behind William Birkin, trying not to pace as his friend worked away. Birkin was hunched over his desk, vigorously writing as he kept trying to figure out the latest issue he'd found within his precious virus. Barely even aware of what time it was or how long he'd been sequestered away if he knew the man.<p>

But that didn't stop him from commenting, giving him the last bits of his attention as he turned from his notes back to the computer screens. G wasn't responding as well to the increased estrogen levels of a mature female host as William had hoped; the virus barely able to infect the healthy cell samples without oversaturating the sample. Something about the way the virus reacted made it less vicious . . . and it seemed that this was going to be the next new obstacle in its development.

"You just need to give her some time, Al. She obviously isn't like anyone else you've dealt with. And I won't bother to say _'I told you so'_."

Birkin stopped, sitting back before he turned; cutting his eyes to him between the slightly greasy streaks of brownish blonde hair hanging limply in his face. He looked him over, his lips twitching as he fought the smile trying to spring forth. And Wesker knew whatever he was about to say was going to grate his already frayed nerves.

"Did she _**really**_ throw you out?"

Wesker glared, his eye ticking behind his glasses as he tried not to snap. He drew in a calming breathe before he answered; trying to keep himself in control as he fought not to snap. This was already embarrassing enough to have to admit-even if it was just to himself and Birkin-what had happened. He'd never-_**NEVER**_- had a woman literally toss him from her home . . . but tonight it had happened.

"Why is that relevant?"

Birkin smirked, turning back to the screen as his shoulders started to shake; his quiet snickers sounding through the otherwise quiet lab space. Wesker closed his eyes, trying not to let his patience completely leave him as William finally started outright laughing.

"_Haha_-I just can't believe she_ threw_ you out! God how did she even _**manage**_ it? What did she run you out with a gun or something?"

Wesker ground his teeth, growling as William continued to laugh. An image of Chaosia pushing him out of her front door, her fist balling and shaking. She'd shaken her head, moving to slam the door in his face when he'd reached out and caught it. He still didn't understand how she'd managed to back him to the door to begin with-their flurry of angry words and insults running together in a blur but she had. And when he'd kept her from slamming the door he'd seen the first true flickers of fury in her eyes.

Her irises had actually turned grey, the blue and green finally settling together to become the muted color as she'd glared up at him. And suddenly all of Bastian's warnings about inciting her wrath made sense. He understood why the two brothers pussyfooted around her so much, deferring to her when they honestly hadn't needed to. But he'd still seethed at her through clenched teeth.

"_You are being ridiculous, Chaosia-"_

She'd growled at him then, her teeth bared in a snarl before she'd struck. And Albert Wesker had found himself with his second bloody nose in as many days. When he'd staggered back to clutch his nose she'd snorted at him, slamming the door in his face hard enough to rattle the door frame. Seconds later the locked caught, the metallic click echoing like thunder over the quiet Raccoon night.

And even now-standing here in William's personal lab in the Raccoon facility he still didn't understand how. How had all of this gotten out of control? And why-even with everything going on-did he actually want to talk to her? Try and see if-given the time William suggested-she would actually regain her senses enough to continue their relationship.

He moved, dropping into the chair beside William as the man continued to laugh; reaching up and rubbing his very tender nose. Goddamn it was miracle she hadn't broken it. William eventually laughed himself out, shaking his head as he turned back to his work; clucking his tongue reproachfully before he spoke.

"Damnation Al. you really picked one this time. You know I always used to worry it was going to be some debutante with a jealous husband or crazy research assistant that got the best of you . . . I never in a million years thought it would be a pathologist. With no connection to our company-or any scheme of yours at all."

William stilled, looking back up at him almost concerned before his words made him groan. God he hadn't even thought about that! He'd just been so focused on the drama between them that he hadn't even considered the ramifications ending the relationship would reap. He worked with her brother. He had to see her because of his assignment. And if she decided to stay this angry-to continue on as she was then she could cause trouble for him. Trouble he didn't need . . . not if he wanted to stay in Spencer's good graces long enough to accomplish his plans.

"Christ Albert. How is all of this going to play out? Her brother isn't going to just roll over and say its fine. Not with what you've said about them."

Wesker groaned, letting his head fall back against the hard chair. God how had he made such a grand mess of things?


	13. Chapter 13

**Rebuilding Foundations**

_November 1996_

Bastian Shaw sighed, looking over everything on his desk in near hopelessness. There was no way that they could ever get this done; not without a considerable amount of help and a shit ton of luck. But the Mayor's office was pushing and hard. So here he sat, trying to find a needle in the proverbial profiling haystack. The only problem was he didn't even know if there was a needle to begin with.

He pushed away from his desk, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he laid his head back against the shoddy leather chair. You'd think with all of the money they'd spent on this damned precinct they could at least have comfortable chairs . . . but apparently that was too much to ask. He shifted trying to get situated before he finally gave up. And decided to burn the monstrosity he was sitting in if he ever got the chance.

Movement beside him caught his attention and he turned, watching Chief Irons and one Mayor Warren's public liaisons move around the glassed in conference room; arguing with Captain Wesker before rolling his eyes. God they were so damned blind . . . Could they not see they were tracking the wrong damned thing? That trying to make any assumptions on the perp by his past crimes was a waste of time and resources?

And apparently just pushing Wesker's dangerously thinning patience to its limits-something that had been tested time and again over the past month.

He glanced back at the sheets, spreading them out to pick up the last victim's file. The girl had only been sixteen years old . . . And she'd been abducted, beaten, raped, marked and killed before her body had been arranged in the rented limo for all the world to see. The car and the girl had been dumped in the parking lot for City Hall . . . which wasn't as odd as the others thought it was. She was Melanie Stedman after all and her father-one of the VPs for Umbrella - had made _**more**_ than a few generous donations to the mayor's last electoral campaign.

Just like the other two girls that had been raped and dumped-both with other limos- were connected to very influential families . . . and both other cars had been either rented under an assumed identity or stolen. Or at least that's what their new Mayor-enforced-keeper Carson claimed. He snorted. He doubted that man knew how much his shoes were worth . . . much less how the cars were attained.

He glanced back at the file and shook his head. He hated being here and doing this but he didn't have a choice. He'd been helping the SVU Detective chosen to work with the other two girls because of his training . . . and to them he seemed less threatening than their other coworkers. Hell, even _Chickenheart_ had terrified them at first; but with the trauma they were recovering from it was easy to understand.

After a few introductions and his best charm the two girls had opened up substantially in his presence, talking more and more about smaller details they remembered than they had with the others. Which while it was great for them to get closer to working through the horrible thing that had happened to them, it wasn't giving the anything more to go on other than this guy liked women who were young, pretty and wealthy. Race, hair and eye color, even height and weight were all irrelevant to him . . . so long as they came from the right kind of family.

_Which so far seemed to be any family connected with Umbrella or the City._

He pushed to his feet, grabbing the files before shoving them under his coat to protect them from the rain and snow. He was going to drop by the morgue and see if Chaosia had found anything new on the girl . . . and then he was going to go home and have a nice, hard drink. Because what he and the others in Special Victims and STARS had tried to tell the idiots here in the taskforce turned out to be the truth. This guy was getting bolder; his thirst for the hunt and taste for bloodshed and violence was escalating more and more with each attack.

Abernathy Cross-victim number one and the baby sister of Alistair Cross, the former Lt. Governor and current Deputy Mayor- had a few bruises and a slight concussion . . . and had been taped into the car in a way where she still had full circulation and wasn't being hurt. But two weeks later Jillian Norris-granddaughter of a circuit judge- was beaten almost to death. Her cheeks and orbital processes had to be surgically prepared-as well as the detached retina- and she had more broken bones than most car wreck survivors . . . and that wasn't even counting the rape.

Abernathy had been assaulted-and pretty forcefully- but nowhere near what happened to Jill. The girl was so torn up from the attack that the doctors were telling her she would likely never be able to have children . . . at least not by herself.

Bastian moved, nodding to the other officers he passed before going to step into the elevator . . . and groaning out loud when he heard Redfield call his name.

"Shaw! _**Hey!**_ Wait up!"

He stepped inside and turned, holding the door open button as he looked at him before shaking his head. He was so damned _weird_ sometimes . . . but then again most of the people here in STARS were. Hell his own little sister had dated their Captain before she'd broken it off. He still didn't know _**all**_ of the details but with both of their case loads he could believe they didn't have the time to devote. And even though Chaosia didn't seem too keen to rekindle when things settled Albert kept trying to at least stay in contact.

It was something he both hated and appreciated . . . but then again the man had fucked his sister. He wasn't supposed to like that fact, just deal with it.

"What Chris?"

He stopped in front of him, sighing as he propped against the open elevator door. And he could admit to himself that Chris Redfield was an okay guy . . . until he opened his mouth or was in one of his weird moods. Because the boyish good looks and big pretty blue eyes only went so far when every word that came out his mouth was some smart ass wise crack or stupid joke. Even his partner got aggravated with it from time to time- and Valentine was about as mellow as they came. Well, until someone mentioned mandatory overtime or Chief Irons that is.

"Captain wanted me to grab you. Irons is going with us to the morgue, to discuss the autopsy with the coroners and see if they have any insight. We're gonna ride with him. He and your sister still on the outs or are they talking again?"

Shaw raised a brow at him before rolling his eyes. He kept asking him stuff like that . . . and while he'd thought it was just honest curiosity at first now it was getting annoying. Especially since-unlike his siblings- he hadn't dated in . . . he cringed mentally. God no wonder he was getting crabbier and crabbier. It had been almost a year . . . but he was tired of people treating him so oddly because he was a member of STARS. And that he wasn't some stupid jackass or fuck on a power trip like they thought all cops were. He knew there was a good share of them out there . . . but there were far more like him and Chris, like Valentine and Burton. Just people who wore their badges and wanted to help keep others safe.

_God maybe he needed to return Priest's phone calls._

"They're still separated as far as I know, Chris. Why is Irons coming?"

Chris shrugged, rolling his eyes before he stepped into the lift.

"I got no fucking clue man. All I know is that if the Captain hadn't spoken up I might've hit that fucker from City Hall myself."

Bastian raised a brow, looking to him expectantly as Chris snorted; leaning against the wall. He turned to him, giving him a pointed look before muttering.

"Fucker made the statement that the officers' housing was for **officers **_**only**_. And that while he could _**respect**_ that I didn't want Claire by herself she didn't need to stay here in the station."

Bastian rolled his eyes; snorting as he reached out and hit the button for the lobby. And just as the doors went to close Wesker popped up; stepping inside just seconds before they sealed shut. Leaving the gaping Chief of Police and Mayor's Liaison on the other side. Wesker nodded to both of them before leaning against the opposite wall, causing Redfield to wave at him awkwardly.

Wesker sighed, letting his head fall back against the paneling. As the lift made it way down however he spoke, his voice tired but firm. And Chris nodded to him, giving him a thankful grin in return.

"I do not care what that buffoon from the city says. If you are uncomfortable leaving your sister in your apartment then it is fine that she stays here. She is going back to school tomorrow correct?"

"Yes sir. She doesn't want to but I don't want her here. Not with everything going on. Khail said he would keep an eye on her on campus so I'll actually be okay."

Redfield turned and gave him a pointed look, one Bastian would've laughed at if he'd been in a better mood. Khail had been trying to make Chris like him for months now . . . and if he ever caught wind of this then there would be no stopping him from aggravating Chris to death.

"Not that he ever needs to know that, Shaw. I mean it."

Bastian nodded, giving him a tired grin before letting his eyes close. Chaosia was going to stay with him tonight whether she liked it or not . . . and they were both probably going to get piss poor drunk. Just another wonderful night with the Shaw family in Raccoon City. The doors opened, the three of them stepping out and towards the parking garage; not even bothering to wait on the two official morons to catch up.

_God they needed to catch this guy . . . or someone was going to get shot._

* * *

><p>Chaosia took in a shallow, haggard breath as she dipped her head in the sink. She hadn't even been able to get to the bathroom before puking. And for once she was glad that Jordan was the only other person on with her tonight. Because the others wouldn't let her live this down. All she'd heard for the past four years was about how women weren't cut out for this line of work . . . and the whispered bets on when she would crack and go all girly. Up until tonight she'd pushed through everything throw at her like it was nothing.<p>

_But this . . ._

A hand rubbed her back awkwardly as she turned the water on, splashing it on her face as she tried to wash away what was left of her dinner. She'd known not to eat before coming in . . . but Khail had called and begged-since he was in town and Claire had apparently all but moved into the stationhouse since her brother's temporary transfer onto the new taskforce with the rest of STARS- and she hadn't been able to turn down the offer of dinner.

_Her brother was too sneaky at getting his way. _

She looked back, nodding to Jordan as she accepted the paper towels he offered her; feeling immensely better about her own puke-tascular display as she noticed the slight green tint to his cheeks. This was getting to even the eager intern . . . Which meant they weren't going to be able to do this quickly.

She wiped her face, moving away to shed her lab coat before rolling her sleeves. And she watched Jordan move around the body shaking his head before running a hand over his face. This was gruesome . . . and she didn't even want to think about the fact that this girl had been alive for most of this. Her body was a mash of bruises and contusions, broken bones nearly poking through the damaged skin while her face and neck were almost solid black . . . and the skin over the left temple and cheek had been peeled back to reveal muscle and bone.

God she didn't want to have to stay by herself tonight. Maybe she would call Albert and-Chaosia shook herself mentally as she turned, looking to Jordan before shaking her head again. Trying not to let the now very familiar melancholy fall over her as she remembered she wouldn't be able to call Albert. Oh she _**could**_ but then she would be giving in. And considering the fact that she'd all but taken to hiding in either the morgue or her home-refusing to even talk with Bastian about anything between them- she wasn't about to do that.

She wasn't playing his fucking games. Even if he kept calling her and trying to get her to talk to him.

"I am so staying with Bastian tonight . . ."

Jordan gave her a tiny tilt of lip that she knew as close to a smile as he could get-without opening his mouth and risking repeating her own wonderful performance-but it helped her feel a bit better. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her reach down and tug it out; looking over the number before she smiled. Even with her and Albert not speaking-okay being pretty close to nearly killing one another- William Birkin insisted on keeping in touch with her. He apparently still thought it was hilarious that she'd dated his friend months before . . . and Albert had sworn that Birkin took every opportunity to rag him about having to come to the morgue to find a suitable girlfriend. She smiled weakly at Jordan before silencing her phone; going to make sure she hadn't puked on the instrument tray.

William had met the two of them for lunch a few weeks after they'd started seeing one another. The lunch had gone on about as well as she'd originally thought it would, neither of the men really commenting until Albert had been called away for work. William had insisted he would stay with her to finish their meal; and drive her back to the station to pick up her car once they were done. And once they'd actually started talking she found she'd yet to want to stop talking to him.

_Even __**if**__ she wanted to tag and bag his best friend. _

The guy was crazy as a bed bug but he was sweet and she loved that he wasn't thoroughly disgusted by what she did. Or morbidly interested . . . he claimed her job was a job. And that if she wanted to talk he'd listen-but he wasn't going to push. He understood not wanting to talk about certain things and she adored him for it. Well for that and Sherry.

She really could take or leave William's wife Annette but she adored Albert's goddaughter Sherry. And it had honestly surprised her when William had insisted that she stayed in touch with them.

The doors slammed open causing both of them to jump before she leveled a dark glare on Bastian as he pushed into the room. Her brother was arguing with Chamberlin . . . again. And the attendant was about to get hit . . . again. She sighed, reaching out and grabbing his arm before turning to the rattish worker.

"Is there a problem?"

Chamberlin snorted, straightening before nodding to Bastian. Who looked about ready to snap . . . Jesus what had he done now?

"He can't be back here and you know it. Only the investigator working the case can be in the room and that's only _**after**_ the procedure . . . I'm sure even you remember that, Dr. Shaw."

She narrowed her blue green eyes at the man before Bastian snorted; shaking his head as he tugged a file from beneath the thick coat he was wearing. And Chaosia had to roll her eyes at the label. Obviously he was dating again-or about to start looking- because she doubted her brother would waste the money on the Dolce and Gabbana trenchcoat even if he wanted to. She just hoped he didn't go back to the person who had wasted it to begin with . . . or the CDC would lose a pathologist. He went to wave the file underneath the other man's nose right as the doors pushed open again, Wesker and Redfield pushing into the room with Chief Irons and Dr. Connors following right behind them.

Chaosia tried not to stiffen before she snatched the file from her brother, sitting it and her phone on the nearest counter before speaking to Chamberlin like she would a small child as she crossed her arms. Which just made Wesker raise a brow at her over his sunglasses while Connors glared, Chamberlin obviously not noticing that their boss was in the room as he snorted.

"Wow? Really? Thank you, Chamberlin. You know I would've never been able to remember that all on my own."

The man took a step forward, glaring at her. But Chaosia just stretched to her height, relaxed and smug as the man snorted down at her. And even as she argued with the man she caught Wesker glaring at Chamberlin questioningly as she moved one of her hands to pull her hair up. Before resting her hands on her hip. Chaosia turned, her odd eyes locking with Connors as she frowned. And she found it hard to not laugh at the way the other man paled and all but scurried from the room with their supervisor's next words.

"Mr. Chamberlin? What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

As soon as the man was gone Bastian chuckled, trying to keep himself standing as Chaosia rolled her eyes. But she had to agree with his sentiment.

"God that guy is stupid . . . How do you deal with him? I mean seriously? You're gonna tell a cop they can't come into the Morgue? He cook meth in the back room or something?"

Chaosia sobered, shaking her head as she turned back to the body. And she watched all humor drain from her brother's face as he stepped closer. She sighed, reaching out and laying her hand on Bastian's shoulder sympathetically. She knew he felt responsible for this . . . but it wasn't _**his **_fault. He'd all but screamed in the Mayor and Chief Irons faces, as well as a few other cops. And no one had listened when he'd warned that the last girl wouldn't be the worst.

_Or the last . . ._

"You okay, Big Brother?"

Bastian nodded, turning to her with a weak grin before he turned to glare at Irons pointedly. Wesker stayed back as Bastian pushed out of the room, glaring daggers at the man before disappearing down the hall.

"Well Chief. **Here's** your _**proof.**_ I hope you're happy."

Irons floundered before turning to Wesker with an indignant glare. And Chaosia found herself impressed when he stood up for Bastian instead of throwing him under the bus; Redfield looking to the blonde giant in just as much awe as she and Connors were. She knew that Wesker hated Irons-loathed the man more than most other things-but to hear him actually buck against him was still offsetting. God they all looked as tired as Bastian.

"Captain Wesker you need to get a hold of your team! They have not-"

"Officer Shaw informed you of the pattern of the hunter and the possibility that this would occur. You, Mayor Warren and the rest of the city council decided to ignore that information. And while he is responding to the stress of the situation-as we all are- he is correct. _**You**_ disregarded the information and now _**we**_ are left with this."

Irons glared, pushing out of the room with one last bark over his shoulder. Something that had Connors following to argue with him. Thank God her boss wasn't whipped and followed every single edict that the city council sent down.

"Just see to this and get back to the stationhouse. The Mayor wants _**all**_ of us on round the clock until this is solved."

Jordan turned to her, raising a brow as she nodded for him to follow Connors.

_God when had they become the keepers of the insane asylum?_

* * *

><p>Wesker turned, glaring at Irons back before he sighed. He hadn't wanted to come down here to the coroner's office, not knowing that Chaosia was on shift. They had barely spoken since she'd tossed him out of her house the month before, claiming-to both her brothers and the Redfields- that she just didn't have the time to devote to <em><strong>any <strong>_relationship.

She hadn't told Bastian why she'd ended things with him; just like she hadn't tried to make his life hard or to destroy his 'friendship' with her brother. But she also refused to hear him out, to return any call he left or even to be in the same room. Hell when he had to come to the morgue if she was here she had Connors deal with him. Or the PA Jordan.

He sighed, turning to Redfield just as he stepped over to Chaosia; rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Refusing to look at the body lying on the slab.

"Hey Chaosia. You doing okay?"

She nodded, giving him a tight smile before she looked to the table; her eyes straying to him for just a second before she turned back to Redfield. And he found he didn't like the way that his sharpshooter looked at his lo-_former _lover. He knew there was nothing there, that there was nothing between them but it still made him angry. Almost _**jealous.**_

Chaosia however responded correctly, giving Redfield a pointed look as he smirked and motioned to her-falling- sloppy bun.

"Nice hair-do, Doc."

"I _**will**_ shoot you, Christopher. And I'm sure the incinerator will help me get rid of your body with very little fuss."

She looked beyond him to Wesker, her voice teasing despite its strained edge. And he found himself shocked that she'd even spoken.

"What do you say, Captain? Up for it?"

He nodded, giving Redfield a pointed look. One that darkened as soon as Chaosia turned to grab another pair of disposable gloves from the wall dispenser. Redfield furrowed his brows before paling, holding his hands up and going towards the doors fairly quickly.

"Hey now, I get it. Leave the Doc alone. Got it. I'm gonna go make sure that Bastian hasn't killed anyone yet . . . or smoked his lungs to ash."

Wesker watched him leave, trying not to growl as he realized that the man had misunderstood. He didn't want him gone he just wanted him away from Chaosia. And quiet. God why did the man decide to actually start interpreting the hints they all tried to give him? He turned back as Chaosia spoke, her voice nowhere near as loud as it had been. She had her back to him, slowly pulling the gloves over her fingers. And he was suddenly tempted to reach out and pull her hair the rest of the way down. It was slightly shorter than it had been before, falling to her shoulder blades instead of right above her waist.

"Bastian's smoking again? He quit when I turned twenty-one."

He stepped closer to her, pushing his hands into his pockets. He honestly didn't know what else to do with them . . . and while she didn't seem as hostile he wasn't about to touch her without permission. Not with other people just outside to bear witness if she decided to take offense.

"This case has been stressful. It's pushing him to his limits as a profiler with the way this killer changes his patterns. He alters his MO with every new kill . . . though his targets seem to be within the same general demographic. He is trying to stay ahead of a madman, Dear heart. It is a taxing endeavor."

She turned to him, nodding as she kept her eyes on the girl on the table; her gaze troubled as they took in the carnage at their fingertips. He was impressed that she wasn't trying to wretch into the sink. Because he'd been tempted to himself at the crime scene . . . This was ghastly. But her words shocked him. All of the cockiness he'd seen when she was threatening Chamberlin vanished, replaced by a humble sincerity that left him torn. He knew she took her job seriously but he'd never seen her actually affected by it.

"It always is. Bastian takes a different approach to victimology, what with his psychotraumatology training and all. He actually crawls in their heads, Albert. Its . . . it's just scary to think he has to wade through _**this**_."

She looked up at him then, her eyes so open and expressive he stepped to her without even thinking. This case was one of the worst he'd seen. He'd conducted live human experiments, had killed people with his bare hands just to do it and to further his own ambitions. But this maniac was a monster even to him. And apparently to the Board of Directors at Umbrella.

Because they were baying for this to be solved just as loudly as the council. What good was it to fund a city that no one wanted to live in? How could they continue work when their own employees and their families were the ones targeted?

"Will-will you watch out for him? Make sure he doesn't slip?"

He nodded, reaching out and cupping her cheek; his gloved thumb tracing her bottom lip as she looked up at him through her lashes. And even though her breath hitched she didn't move away; didn't pull back as he dipped to whisper to her. Actually she leaned into his touch; even it was only just a little.

"I swear Dear heart. I will not allow him fall."

She nodded to him, her eyes searching his as he leaned in even closer; her next words ghosting over his lips as they almost touched hers.

"Was Irons serious? Are_** none**_ of you going home until this is solved?"

He nodded again, his other hand coming up to her curls; taking her elastic in his fingers and tugging it from her hair. Sliding it over his hand to rest on his wrist as his fingers combed through her ringlets, twisting the strands between his thumb and index.

"Unfortunately . . . Your hair is shorter."

She swallowed loudly, nodding as she bit her bottom lip. She glanced down, her eyes on their shoes as she continued on sheepishly. He could tell from the flush of her cheeks that she was embarrassed but he didn't think less of her. Hell he'd warned William that he needed to keep Sherry and Annette close until all of this was said and done.

"I got it cut last week. It-it was too long . . . Do you think its safe for me to stay at Bastian's alone? Without someone else being there?"

He shook his head, running his nose down hers.

"No. No I do not. He-this killer can get through almost any locking mechanism, through security systems. I-It would be best for you to stay with someone. I would feel better if you did. Is Mikhail still in town?"

She shook her head, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips; drawing his eyes to her mouth. Had it really been a month since he'd last touched her? Kissed her?

"No-no he went back after lunch. Claire's going back tomorrow . . . no one's even getting to do Thanksgiving because of all of this. I guess I'll be okay at home-"

"Stay at the precinct."

She blinked, her brows furrowing as he hurried to explain; to try and say something intelligible. He knew this wasn't something he normally did, that he didn't need to get himself wrapped back up in her but he couldn't seem to stop himself. While Chaosia was no wounded bird that needed constant attention and protection she was vulnerable. And he would be damned if he'd walk into one of these rooms and see her lying cold on a slab when he could've prevented it.

"Wha-Albert, no. There's no-"

"There's plenty of room. You can take my spot in the Crib if you have to. Besides-"

He ran his thumb over her cheek, looking at her over the rim of his glasses imploringly.

"You have a doctorate in forensic psychology. You can help Bastian. Your brother would probably appreciate it . . . and it will keep you from having to see the next one if the Task Force is too late."

She seemed ready to refuse when his other hand slid to cup her other cheek, forcing her eyes up to his own. He leaned in, leaving only the barest hint of space between them; his words dancing over her lips just as hers had his.

"Please, Dear Heart. I can stay in my office if my presence is what keeps you from agreeing. It's honestly where I have been most of this anyway. But I-I do not want you alone. I am worried for you, Chaosia. Regardless of what you think-of how things between us went I do not want anything to happen to you. Not if I can prevent it."

She searched his face before finally nodding, her eyes turning back to the body on the slab. But he didn't care that she wasn't looking at him anymore. Or that she was withdrawing from him again. She'd agreed to come; to let him watch over her. He nodded, brushing his lips over her cheek before stepping back. He turned, moving towards the door when he stopped. He didn't look back at her as he spoke, almost afraid to see how she would handle his edict. If she became angry with him again now they would surely argue; because he was serious about keeping her from harm.

"I will send your assistant back and collect Redfield. Your brother will stay for the procedure. He will accompany you home long enough to gather a few things. You can shower at the precinct if you need to; I just want you to be quick."

She nodded, her voice stopping him as he went to step back into the hallway. He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder. And the tiny smile she was giving him made him feel better than he had in a month. He would never admit it-probably not even to himself-but Chaosia Shaw had wormed her way under his skin. First by refusing his advances, then defying him at every turn in their relationship before she ended it. And now that she was at least speaking to him again he found he wasn't as surly as he had been.

_God he hadn't realized it but he'd been __**pouting**__. Lord no wonder William had been laughing at him all fucking month_.

"Thank you Albert. It means a lot to me, you doing this. I-I appreciate it."

He nodded to her, stepping back out the door before he did something to upset his renewal in her good graces. He never could stay in them for long so he needed to get out . . . before he fucked himself over again.

* * *

><p>Chaosia woke with a start, looking around the room confused before she remembered where she was. She'd come to the precinct to sleep, unwilling to stay the night in her own home with everything going on. This killer seemed to target people who were connected with either city government or members of the Umbrella Corporation. And while she wasn't connected in any way to the later she was definitely connected to the first as a Coroner.<p>

Dr. Connors had assured her that she was probably safe but she still hadn't wanted to test it. Bastian and the others of STARS had agreed, but in the end it had been the terrifying thought of not knowing who or what was waiting at home that had pushed to accept the empty bed in the Crib. Not that Albert's little heartfelt soliloquy hadn't helped her decide . . . or his offer of his bunk.

She glanced around, seeing her brother snoring away on the cot across from her; his mouth slack as a steady stream of drool trailed onto the pillow beneath his head. Chris Redfield was in the bunk above him, one arm dangling off of the side as the sniper tried to compete with her brother; his own snores almost canceling out Bastian's. Claire was in the bunk above her, the girl's quiet mumbling letting her know she was sound asleep as well.

Actually as she took a second, longer glance around the room she noticed that almost everyone from STARS Alpha was here. Either dozing or snoring away like her brother and the Redfields. Everyone-it seemed-but Albert.

She eased out of the bed, wrapping her sweater tighter around her shoulders as she quietly padded towards the door. She stopped long enough to pull the blanket a bit higher up Bastian, pushing his now shoulder length hair out of his face before going on towards her destination. Stepping into the hallway, she glanced towards the doors that led to the main area of the Stationhouse before moving in the opposite direction. Right towards the main office space for the STARS squad. Or- to be completely honest with herself-right to the frosted glass and gleaming wooden door to the glassed in office at the back.

Chaosia glanced over the desks as she passed them unable to stop the wry smile tugging at her lips as she noticed Chris's was piled higher than most of the other's-save Barry and Vicker's. Albert had voiced-on a few separate occasions-that he thought Redfield could accomplish a great deal more than he did _**if**_ he would just apply himself. She'd never bothered voicing that Chris _was _applying himself to the fullest-just in different ways than her former lover had thought he should.

But Albert hadn't seen the need in being a good protective big brother and surrogate parent or to focusing precious time to building lasting relationships with the people he worked with. He was a solitary person where Chris was most definitely a social creature. And while their priorities differed they still accomplished the same thing-they came to STARS and did their best . . . Different roads with the same destination. Though she knew for fact Albert's wouldn't be littered with as much paperwork if Chris remembered to complete his but what could he expect?

Chris was all instinct, a force of nature just like Khail. While Wesker was more like her and Bastian-methodical and careful. She shivered, trying to banish the cold seeping into her bones as she stopped just before the door. The slightly yellow glow to the glass told her his lamp was on and while she didn't hear him moving that didn't mean he wasn't going over sighting reports or anonymous tips that had flooded the PD for almost three weeks.

She swallowed her indecision, turning the cool bronze knob and pushing into the room slowly . . . only to sigh in exasperation as she found Albert asleep in the chairs before his desk. He'd pulled them together, his legs propped in one while he slumped in the other; his knees bent and his head lulled to the side. His sunglasses were pushed up and into his slightly messy hair, his stubble very evident as his mouth twitched in his sleep.

She closed the door before she moved, kneeling beside the chair as she laid a gentle hand on his forearm. Frowning to herself at how clammy he was. She brought her other hand up, feeling his forehead. Only then noticing that his brow was warm to the touch; dotted with sweat and his frown was deepening as he shifted restlessly in his sleep. She shook him lightly, her voice a whisper as she spoke to him.

"Albert? Albert wake up."

He frowned, trying to turn away from her as he grunted and rolled; the chairs groaning their protest at the movement. While he wasn't exactly light but she knew for fact that Albert Wesker was one solid muscle. And that Chief Irons should be ashamed of himself for putting this much pressure on these people while he was absent.

She nudged him again, leaning closer as she tried to rouse him again.

"Albert, baby come on . . . you need to get up."

He groaned, opening his eyes as he glared at her; the blue obviously clouded with sleep and exhaustion as he snapped. But she knew better than to take it to heart. She'd seen-on one other occasion-that Wesker didn't do well with no sleep. Especially when he knew he wasn't going to be able to recover it, the sheer weight of that burden souring even his best moods to unbearable if he was awake long enough.

_**"What?"**_

She sighed, squeezing his forearm lightly as she spoke; keeping her voice even and controlled. She knew he was exhausted-they all were. And he was the one who'd relinquished his bed so she could sleep. She rested her chin on his arm, her eyes moving over his face as she gave him a tiny smile.

"You needed to wake up, honey. You were about to fall."

He blinked down at her, his eyes confused before he looked around; realization sinking in as he nodded. He moved, stretching his legs experimentally; the joints and chairs creaking and popping in a painful symphony as she tried not to wince. God he was going to be so sore tomorrow. He brought his hand to his mouth, muffling his yawn before he spoke; running a hand over his eyes tiredly.

"What time is it, Dear heart?"

She glanced over to the clock on the wall, sighing as she looked back to him.

"Almost four in the morning. How long have you been asleep? Like this?"

He groaned, his head falling back before he kicked the other chair far enough away to let his feet fall; the soles of his boots squeaking on the waxy linoleum as he all but flouted. She bit her lip, trying not to smile before he answered; all of her momentary humor draining away.

"Since three thirty. I was only going to sleep for fifteen minutes-"

She moved, catching his hand in hers as he tried to stand; looping their fingers together before covering their joined hands with her free one. That one action making him freeze. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his as she all but begged him. She could blame it on sleep deprivation and stress later but she knew this investigation-his team couldn't handle him in this mood. Not without a buffer or earplugs.

"Go back to sleep Albert. You need more than a thirty minute catnap and you know it."

He turned from her, his voice hardening around the edges as he growled to her. And she knew that her exile of him hadn't made him her biggest fan-despite any residual whatever he held for her. His words only proving it.

"What does it matter to you, Chaosia? I swore to watch over your brother. I cannot accomplish that unconscious."

She sighed, reaching up to trace his face; hating herself for admitting what she'd been trying so hard to bury for the past month. He'd screwed around on her, with one gorgeous exotic woman she knew of- that she was never going to measure up to- and probably dozens more that she didn't. But she still couldn't make herself hate him. She could call forth anger, hurt, wrath, disappointment and heartache but not hate. Even with the time and distance between them.

"It matters to me Albert. You _**hurt **_me . . . that doesn't mean I _**hate**_ you. If I hated you it wouldn't have hurt so bad to-I care about you. And we both know **you** _**need**_ sleep to function. You can't look after Bastian if you're passing out from exhaustion or in a cell for snapping and killing Irons."

He stilled, looking her over before he sighed; opening his mouth to argue when she shook her head. She pulled her fingers over his skin to cover his mouth, giving him a pointed look.

"You are going to march to the Crib and crawl your ass into that bed. And you are going to get no less than two hours sleep. Or I'm going to find the something to knock you over the head with."

He rolled his eyes before cutting them to her, his irritation fading as he sighed. He squeezed her hand lightly, dipping his chin just once before he pushed to his feet; tugging her up with him. But when she went to step away-to lead him to the Crib and make sure he actually did what she wanted he stopped her. He turned her to face him, his free hand sliding to tangle in the curls at the base of her skull just as his mouth sealed over hers. She melted into him, her arms looping around his shoulders as his other hand tugged her hips into his; their mouths moving in tandem as he kept her close.

Finally after a few intense moments he pulled back, his hold on her hair almost painful as he tilted her head to an even more severe angle. He ran his nose down the side of hers, his lips leaving sloppy opened mouthed kisses on her flesh as he spoke to her. And she suddenly had a hard time remembering why she was so angry with him to begin with.

"I am sorry, Dear heart. I never meant to-It has never bothered anyone else."

She shivered, her knees trying to give way as she clung to him; her fingers sliding to muss the hair at the base of his neck; twirling the light blonde over her digits as she answered him.

"It hurt me, Albert. I just-why didn't you **_stay?_** Talk to me then . . . I would've-"

He kissed her again, though this time he was all gnashing scraping teeth and desperate inhales; like he would devour her from the mouth down if she stood there long enough to let him. She curled her fingers into fists in his tresses, their teeth clicking together audibly as she returned his fervor; his grip tightening on her as he groaned against her lips.

A sound from the bullpen beyond his office walls made her pull away; his mouth working over her jaw and neck feverishly as his fingers dug into her skin. The feel, sound and taste of him so desperate and dominating at once that she almost surrendered to it. Until she heard Claire Redfield's voice just outside the door, her brother's answering call not far behind her.

_"Do you think we should ask Captain Wesker? She wasn't in the showers or the bathroom . . ."_

_"Chaosia is a big girl, Claire. Just let her pop up. She might've run down to her car to grab something. Bastian's just being insane."_

They heard a snort before the voices started to fade, the two moving away from the office as they bickered. But Wesker didn't relinquish his hold on her, his fingers still digging into her as his lips hovered over her throat.

_"Wow really? Coming from you that's an insult! I mean you won't even let me stay in the city for Thanksgiving!"_

_"Oh shut up. I want you safe . . . Bastian's overreacting. Chaosia isn't a kid. And you are leaving as soon as we eat breakfast."_

When they heard the doors shut she felt herself relax, only to start as he tugged her face back up to his. His blue eyes searched hers, the intensity there leaving her breathless before his next words rendered her speechless. Was he serious?

"What if I said no one else but you, no Ada-no other . . ."

She bit her bottom lip, looking him over before she closed her eyes. She couldn't do this! He couldn't do this! He'd already proven he wouldn't. he would only fail again and then she would be even worse off . . . but she found her lips moving on their own. Her common sense overridden as she nodded. It was like she was no longer in control of her body as she answered him, sagging against him as his lips descended over hers again.

"Only if its what you want, Albert. I'm not binding you when you want to be free. If you don't want to be here then-"

He kissed her hard, a contented rumbled moving through his chest as his mouth broke from hers; kissing her again quickly before he let his forehead fall against hers.

"I want this, Chaosia. Despite the hardship and the fact I know it's not what I should do-what I should want . . . I do. Do you consent?"

She furrowed her brows, suddenly confused before his teeth grazed her bottom lip; nipping at her mouth as he spoke again. His voice was darker, primal as he cooed to her huskily.

"Do you consent, Dear heart? Say you want _**this**_. **_Me_**."

She nodded, the words barely leaving her mouth before his sealed over hers; swallowing any protests or doubts she'd had about rekindling this. But as she was kissing him-returning his attentions with zeal- he drew his mouth from hers almost viciously. He moved away from her, the room suddenly feeling frigid as he stepped to the door. She opened her mouth, ready to curse him for playing with her head-her heart-when his hand went to the handle; his deft fingers flicking the lock before he pulled the blinds.

_God what in the hell was he doing now?_

* * *

><p>Wesker turned back to Chaosia, looking her over hungrily as she shifted on her feet. She'd changed into her softest jeans and a simple tee shirt after she'd showered, wrapping one of her thickest sweaters around her shoulders while her hair had been left to curl uncontrollably. And even though she wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever come across-honestly she barely made it into his top twenty- in this moment she was perfect. She blinked, confused as he moved and adjusted the other two sets; completely blocking the light from the main office space before he turned back to her.<p>

He knew he was damning himself by continuing this; that he was just as likely to burn her as he was himself but he didn't care. All he had wanted for the last month was her; even Ada Wong unable to keep his mind focused when they'd come together. And by God he wasn't going to deny himself that now that she'd come to her senses.

He moved stopping just shy of touching her before he reached out and clicked the lamp on his desk, her eyes locking on his suspiciously as he whispered to her.

"Can you be quiet Dear heart?"

She glared, opening her mouth-probably to berate him-before he tugged her flush against him; his hands already smoothing over her. Shock flashed across her face before his lips smashed into hers. And he savored the way she wrapped back around him. She didn't fight as he picked her up, dropping her on the desk behind them before his hands moved down to her jeans. And with a few deft flicks of his hands they were open and sliding down her legs, exposing smooth creamy skin to him. He moved, tugging hard as the jeans pooled to the floor at their feet; her boots joining them as she leaned up to meet his mouth.

Her fingers were at his own clothes, unfastening his shirt buttons before she pushed the collar off of his shoulders and her hands slipped beneath the fabric; tugging the tails of the shirt from his trousers. Seconds later her fingers were at his belt, whipping it off and tossing it aside before she started working on the buttons. And as she traced him through his boxers he pushed her back down on the desktop; his mouth slanting over hers forcefully. She didn't do anything but whimper to him-a sound he'd missed terribly- as his fingers knotted in her curls. He moved his lips over her chin and jaw, leaving a trail of nips and kisses down her neck. Whispering to her in the nearly dark office all the while.

It didn't matter that her brother was outside looking for her or that they were here-in his office at his fucking assignment. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be tracking down a serial rapist and killer . . . or that the current thorn in his side could walk in at any moment; demanding he resign for indecent conduct.

Because right now he wasn't Albert Wesker Captain of STARS. He wasn't Chief of Security or even Chief Researcher. He was just Albert-Chaosia's lover. And he found that he didn't mind being something so seemingly small. Actually it was liberating-knowing the only person he had to please, to work for and towards was her.

God no wonder William had married Annette. If she was this for him then he suddenly understood everything his friend had done. The house, the kid they rarely saw, the illusions of normalcy. All just to get a glimpse of this. He owed William an apology . . ._ not that he'd ever actually get it._

"I am sorry Dear Heart . . . I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. I wanted you . . . I still do."

She looked up at him before pulling her lip between her teeth before she leaned up and kissed him. And the last clear thought that passed through his mind was how he was going to keep her after his time within STARS was done.

* * *

><p>Bastian sat in the booth across from Wesker and Chaosia, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. Because for the past month his sister and the Captain had barely seen one another and had spoken even less. But somehow over the course of last night the two seemed closer than they had been before their separation. He just didn't know why . . .<p>

He watched Wesker turn to Chaosia, handing her his cup of coffee when she drained hers; smirking as she blushed and thanked him. His sister gave him a bashful smile, her fingers looping through his as soon as she accepted the cup. Neither trying to pull away or break the contact. Bastian furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes as Wesker dipped; raising her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles.

Chaosia grinned, ducking her eyes from him as he chided her teasingly. His voice warm and thick as his sister's blush darkened prettily.

"Pace yourself, Dear Heart. You don't want to be awake for days."

She shrugged, rolling her eyes before turning to him. And Bastian decided to let his suspicions and unease at this go. She looked happy-so happy that he almost couldn't bear to look at her. While Albert seemed about ready to burst, practically preening as he looked over his shoulder to Redfield; answering the man's question about the case. How the two of them had found anything worth being this happy with in the midst of this hell was beyond him. But he wasn't going to be the one to spoil it.

"So what does he want us to do now, Captain? I mean we've followed every reliable lead, run down every tip. And I know Bastian's been running himself ragged on the profiling end. Shouldn't the feds be helping us with something like this?"

Wesker's good mood dissipated for a second before Chaosia nudged him, her look pointed as she shook her head. Wesker looked to her, brow raised over the rim of his sunglasses before he sighed and nodded; moving to casually toss his arm over her shoulders and pull her close. Something that his sister took full advantage of, leaning into him without ever saying a word.

Chris looked between them before blinking, shaking his head with a baffled look before he shrugged. And Bastian had to say he agreed. He had no clue what had happened but it had. And it was apparent that whatever had caused the rift between them was buried; the two closer now than they had been. Jill shifted in her spot beside Barry, both officers wisely refusing to comment as they continued eating their breakfast. Their attention focused on the Captain's words and not the way he had Chaosia tucked against him.

"They have refrained from contacting the Feds thus far. It is a local matter and-until this last attack-did not warrant the attention or energy of a Federal Taskforce. Though if there is another federal intervention will only be a matter of time."

Bastian nodded, knowing the truth of it as Claire looked from her brother to Wesker; accepting the container of syrup that Jill handed her with a small smile before speaking her mind.

"But why hasn't the Mayor or even the Chief of Police contacted someone? I mean isn't it odd to try and handle this by themselves-to push their officers to such lengths?"

Wesker stilled, his gaze focused on the youngest Redfield as Bastian moved to intervene, speaking up and bringing the attention away from the blushing and fidgeting girl. Wesker turned as Chris and Jill did, Barry never stopping his steady inhale of food as he nodded and agreed.

"Hey I've seen cities try and contain viral and bacterial epidemics for weeks before they ever contacted the CDC-the same with killers and sexual predators. Some cities try and handle everything before the Feds get there. Because honestly after they show up it turns into a-well-"

"Clusterfuck. It turns into a clusterfuck, Claire."

Bastian groaned as the others turned to Chaosia, his eyes narrowing as she continued on unfazed. Wesker's lips were tugged to the side in a tiny smirk as he shook his head, stealing his coffee back long enough to take a greedy gulp. Well at least someone wasn't put off by her damned mouth.

"Honestly, its almost worse when they do show up. Hell when I was doing my graduate work for my pathology degree I spent six months in DC. And every single time a federal case came through-or they got called in on a local investigation things got so convoluted it was ridiculous. Red tape, additional protocol, all working together to make it impossible for the local personnel to really do much of anything."

Bastian nodded, begrudgingly agreeing. He'd seen it himself and he knew there were scant few Federal agents that would actually help local law enforcement over just taking over the entire case. But as he went to speak, Wesker beat him to it; his statement shocking him into a near stupor.

_He'd had no idea Chaosia had told him about that . . ._

"And they wonder why you did not accept the fellowship with the Collar Institute?"

Chaosia rolled her eyes, giving him a deadpan look before she sighed. And leaned just the tiniest bit closer to his Captain as she grumbled; closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Don't start, Albert. I haven't had enough sleep to deal with it."

Wesker shrugged, his fingers combing through her hair as she snuggled closer to him. But he didn't push the issue, returning to the conversation with the table behind them as a near silent participant. While Chaosia half dozed, her eyes occasionally fluttering as she shifted and added her own sleepy input when the conversation turned to the physical evidence and possible motive. But what Bastian couldn't get over was how normal it all seemed. He sighed, shaking his head as Chris caught his eye, giving him a questioning look. He had no clue . . . but if anything good had come from this case then they would agree it was this.

_Maybe now Wesker would stop snapping at every single thing they said._

* * *

><p><em> yeah . . .<em>


	14. Chapter 14

****_Okay I figured that while i sit in the hospital waiting room I might as well try to be productive and post something. Thanks so much for all of the reviews, faves and alerts! On with the show!_

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><p><strong>Snow<strong>

_December 1996_

Bastian sighed as he followed Chaosia and Wesker out of _Cena,_ shaking his head at the way the two were acting as they navigated the snowy sidewalk. The sky had been a threatening grey for three days, the clouds practically bursting as they'd stalled over Raccoon City. And it seemed mere hours after the final charges were laid against Michael Dante- the media dubbed Socialite Slasher who had stalked the city for nearly two months- that the proverbial bottom had finally dropped out; blanketing the city in an ever growing layer of fluffy white snow while they'd eaten. He slowed his pace as his feet came close to the edge of the slippery concrete, considering the two moving ahead of him; trying not to scowl as he tried to wrap his mind around what had occurred.

Normally working together was enough to strain any relationship-especially concerning something as complex and trying as the case they'd just solved. But the two had bounded over the hurdle in stride, working together over the files while he'd profiled. It didn't matter to him that-in all honesty-Chaosia had actually been helping _**him **_more than Wesker; using her forensic knowledge to push him towards a better profile while she'd scoured the minute pieces of physical evidence for any link to their killer and victims. Or that his sister had been overly patient dealing with the Taskforce's soured moods and piss poor attitudes; showcasing patience he'd never dreamed she had with living, breathing people.

_It was still a fucking miracle that she hadn't snapped at anyone even once. _

Chaosia didn't draw on her patience reserves often . . . just like Wesker hardly ever commented on work as much as he had hers. Okay so it was _**only **_like_** three**_ times-three small little comments and that proud tilt of lip but it was still enough to be noticed. It was almost like Wesker had made it a point to seek Chaosia out whenever he'd had any question or concern with the physical evidence, refusing to call Connors or turn to the Mayor's office the way Irons seemed to demand. He knew the man's concerns over the positioning and binding had been legitimate-because honestly the deviation from kill to kill had stumped all of them- but it was still . . . _**odd.**_

Bastian shook himself, glancing around the street with another sigh; his breath coming out in a thick cloud of wet smoke as he dug through his pockets for his cigarettes. He knew Chaosia was pissed he was smoking again but seriously he was already trying not to fall over the alcoholic barrier he'd set for himself months before this shitstorm- something the case had almost pushed him past. He pulled a cig to his lips, pushing the pack back into his coat as he searched for his lighter; keenly aware of the flurries starting to drift to the ground around them. He cast his eyes up, watching as Chaosia stopped; raising a brow at him before she rolled her eyes.

He glared before shrugging, bringing the lighter to the cig as he snorted. She'd get over it or she'd harp at him until he quit again-besides it wasn't like she didn't occasionally smoke herself. He struck the lighter, the flame dancing and twirling over the paper and tobacco . . . only to die a smoldering smoking death as a particularly fat snowflake plopped right on the tip; the moisture all but destroying the cigarette as it started to bend and fold at the added weight.

Bastian growled, glaring at the cigarette before his eyes moved up; his left brow ticking as his sister's voice floated to him.

"Maybe that's a _**sign**_ Bastian."

He rolled his eyes, tossing the cigarette to the snow before he dug the pack back out; groaning at his misfortune. The now thoroughly soaked ruined cigarette was his last one . . . and he knew that with his sister close there was no way he would be able to get another pack until later. He groaned, running a hand down his face before he looked up; the now steadily falling snow landing softly on his face. Chaosia laughed causing him to turn-ready to snap at her when he stopped short.

She was looking up at the sky the same way he had been before, her eyes closed as she giggled; the same white flurries clinging to her curls and lashes as her lips spread into another happy chortle. The snow was barely brighter than her hair, the stark white blanketing her dark grey coat as she held her free hand out. Looking to the collecting snow in seeming wonder before she moved her gloved fingers, the snow crumbling to water and sliding down over the black leather to drip to the snow at her feet. While her other hand was stilled entwined with Wesker's . . . who was looking down at her with a raised brow as she giggled; her boots crunching as on the already thick snow as she stretched to catch more flurries.

"Wow . . . I thought they were only calling for half an inch at the most."

Wesker shrugged his brows, letting her slip free as she moved towards the Land Rover. Bastian watched as Wesker kept her in his line of sight, both shaking their heads as she brushed piles of snow from his windshield; occasionally shaking her gloved fingers to let the melting slush drip away before continuing. Wesker sighed, the two of them shaking their heads in unison before his Captain spoke; making Bastian grin before he could stop himself.

"Her fascination with snow amazes me."

Bastian shrugged, Wesker turning back to track Chaosia as she moved to the other side of the car; his windshield almost completely clear of slush as she played in the snow. His sister glanced up, catching the eyes of the normally taciturn blonde with a dazzling blushing smile; causing Wesker to nod to her, his own lips tugging more to the side then they had before. Something that made Bastian turn his head and sigh.

He already felt like a third wheel for eating with him-despite Chaosia all but demanding his presence and threatening his sanity and privacy if he didn't grant her wishes. And watching the quiet moment between the two of them just made that feeling even worse. The two had been steadily working towards maintaining their new fragile relationship . . . They needed time together-_**alone.**_

_Not with Chaosia's big brother tagging along-hovering in the damned wings like a freaking phantom. _

Wesker turned back to him, all of the warmth fading as he rolled his eyes; his lips tugging to the side in a humorless smirk. Something Bastian was all too familiar with from STARS. This was the side of Wesker he was used to, the man that he dealt with. He knew how to interact with this Wesker . . . because the other side he'd just glimpsed was completely alien. Even the one moment he'd interrupted at the lake forever ago hadn't prepared him for this-for actually seeing his superior act damn close to human.

"Oh for God's sake, is _**all**_ of your family so enthralled with snow?"

Bastian grinned, shaking himself as he opened his mouth; ready to inform said Captain that yes Khail and Chaosia were both in love with any type of winter precipitation-something both had been taught by Millennia- when something cold and wet collided with the side of his face. He squawked jumping as snow and slush slid down his face and neck to drip beneath his scarf coat and shirt; the cold making him shudder as he turned. His left eye ticking as Wesker looked to him in seeming shock.

Snickers made both of them turn, Bastian's eyes narrowing while Chaosia laughed; nearly doubled over as she leaned against his car. Her cheeks were flushed as tears of mirth trailed down and over her cheeks, her eyes shining as her laughter carried over the sounds of the relatively peaceful Raccoon night. And even as nice as it was to see her happy, almost rapturous in her joy-something that she had been lacking since October for pretty obvious reasons- he couldn't fight back the rising wave of irritation. Especially when he glanced back at Wesker, noticing the dangerous quiver to the other man's lips.

"I-I'm sorry, Bastian! It was just _**hahahahahahahaha**_ too good to pass up!"

She pushed away from the car, moving to wrap her arm around his waist as she rested her cheek over his heart. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly before slim fingers tapped his chest; bringing his eyes down to hers. She gave him one of her best smiles, her cheeks still rosy from both the cold and her chuckles. She shrugged, her brows lifting in an innocent mockery of her shoulders as her grin became lopsided; reminding him entirely too much of their brother.

"Forgive me, big brother?"

Bastian rolled his eyes before he nodded, tugging her closer. She grinned, snuggling close as she hugged him tighter; her quiet words drifting to him as she giggled. And Bastian didn't bother hiding his exasperation before he grinned; pressing a kiss to her temple. Never once noticing the way Albert Wesker was looking at them.

"I love you Bastian. I'm glad you're okay."

* * *

><p>Wesker watched Bastian tug Chaosia close, dipping to press a kiss to her temple as she leaned into her brother. His lover looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks pink as her lips spread into a thankful smile; her words soft as she leaned deeper into the embrace. Completely unaware of how much attention they were drawing; of the eyes of the people moving by them. Not that he could blame any of the others for stopping to look before they went along their way.<p>

The scene was almost surreal, the picturesque siblings smiling and laughing in the warm light cast by the restaurant signs and street lamps; the steadily falling snow catching the reflected colors before fading back to white at their feet. This he realized-as he was sure some of the passersby had as well- was something he'd seen a million times in movies and plays, had read about in novels and heard via others but he'd never witnessed it. Had never been a part of it . . . even now-with the way he'd clung to Chaosia, had vowed to actually try to commit to his relationship with her- he was still teetering on the edge. With his nose pressed against the rose colored glass as he hovered and observed.

This intimacy, this caring and concern was something he had never had . . . something he still couldn't risk. His phone buzzed in pocket, causing him to turn; tugging it free only to glare at the number. _**Ada**_. Of course she would call now-almost like she could sense that his loyalties were shifting, a sense that he hoped Spencer would never develop. He moved to answer- because he had to at least keep some form of contact with the woman to ensure he could keep track of this other organization- when Chaosia's shriek made him turn, his head jerking to her hard enough that his neck actually popped.

His lover was back peddling from her brother, her hair caked with snow and ice as she glared daggers at Shaw. Who was cackling like a madman as he slung another handful of snow in her direction, barely missing her as she cursed him motioning to her shirt.

"_**Bastian!**_ You ass! This shirt is _**silk!**_"

"Don't you mean _**was?**_ Cause now its an overpriced hanky-"

"_**Exactly!**_ I can't believe you did this! Its ruined-"

"Oh _wah_, _**wah.**_ Its not like you don't have a million . . . or that _**he**_ won't buy you another one-_**HEY!**_"

Chaosia scooped up another handful of slush, throwing it dead in Bastian's face. Shaw staggered back, squawking again before he slung the snow and dirt from his face; glaring at his sister as she seethed up at him.

"_**JERK!"**_

"Brat! You are in so much trouble little sister!"

Wesker stood stock still, the ringing phone still in hand as he watched the siblings bicker and fight; both quickly losing the anger as they started lobbing snowballs haphazardly at one another. Neither bothering to hide their groans and laughter when the other's aim proved true. Wesker glanced back to the phone, silencing it and erasing the call from the log before he shoved it deep into his coat pocket. He knew it was paranoid but if he'd been diligent-had kept up with the small things like this before and hadn't started to fall lax then Chaosia would've never discovered him to begin with. And he wouldn't have spent nearly a month groveling like an idiot when he wasn't surly and snapping.

He sighed, looking up as the snowfall started to thicken; the flurries becoming fatter as the wind gusted. Telling him it was time to collect the wayward siblings and be on their way. Besides they had to collect her Chevelle from the precinct before they finally got to go home-to actually spend the night somewhere other than the Stationhouse, to get to actually enjoy one another over trying to steal any second they could find.

"Dear heart, as _amusing_ as this is we still have to-"

Bright white cold wet slush collided with his left cheek, startling him enough to make him jerk. He turned, wiping the snow from his face slowly as Chaosia paled thrusting her finger at Bastian; eyes wide as her brother squawked.

"He did it!"

"_**WHAT?**_ Fucking brat! Way to stick with family Chaos-"

"Shaw."

Bastian stilled, looking to him guiltily as Wesker felt his eye start to itch; the tale tell sign that he was seconds away from his eye actually twitching. Bastian sunk lower, folding in on himself as Chaosia regained herself enough to snicker; his obvious ire no deterrent as she covered her mouth and giggled. While he brother seemed dangerously close to succumbing to a panic attack. He sighed, turning to move to his Mercedes as fast as he could.

"Go home, Shaw. That's an order."

Chaosia moved to follow him, her fingers looping through his after she'd waved her imbecile of a brother on his way. She tugged him back, wrapping her arms around his waist as she leaned into him; her chin propped on his chest as she looked up at him through her lashes. He sighed glancing down at her with a raised brow; the snow collecting in his hair and on his clothes starting to melt. He rolled his eyes, getting ready to snap when she moved; wiping he stray flurries from his cheek before letting her palm rest hard on his face. She shifted, stretching to her tiptoes as she ghosted her lips over his; kissing him softly as she whispered to him.

"It was an accident, Albert. A game . . . everything's fine."

His shoulders stiffened, his posture going rigid as he snorted; his lip curling enough to add a flash of white to snarl.

"Oh yes, a game that ended with _**both**_ of us soaked and freezing."

Chaosia shrugged, her lips brushing his again.

"So? We're **fine**. Besides," She leaned into him a little heavier; her other hand sliding up to trace his lapel as oh-so-carefully spoke. "Part of the fun with snow is keeping each other warm. Curling up together to keep the cold away."

Wesker looked down at her suspiciously before snorting, rolling his eyes. Since they'd reconciled Chaosia had proven an eager opportunistic lover, taking any chance they could grasp to be intimate-something he wasn't above saying he'd enjoyed. But to see her like this, so open and brazen while still seeming shy was something he still wasn't used to. He snorted, smirking down at her condescendingly-something that made her eyes flash invitingly before she rolled them; showcasing the patience she'd been dolling out in spades during her taskforce tenure.

_Obviously it was going to take more to bait her tonight._

"You are intoxicated, Dear heart."

Chaosia looked up at him, her desire to goad him and bicker practically brushing the surface before she shrugged; laughing before she smiled lazily up at him. Meaning that she was going to keep showcasing the amazing patience he'd benefitted from for the past month. But her next words threw him for a loop, making him look down to her in a mix of awe and shock.

"I just want to go home and enjoy _**this**_-the case being closed, everyone being okay. Bastian staying sane . . . _**Us.**_ I want to enjoy us, Albert. To finally get to spend a whole night with you in bed-rather than a cot."

Wesker glanced over towards his car, making a decision he would probably regret later. But for tonight he was content to just be with her . . . and he wanted that on his terms.

"Well, then let's be off."

* * *

><p>Chaosia looked to Albert, more than slightly confused as they pulled up to his home instead of hers; moving through the gate at the front of the property. She looked over to him, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening as the dark house came into view, waning moonlight reflecting off of the large windows and the elegant modern styled wood siding; making the house seem to practically glow against the white snow. Wesker however just continued down the long winding driveway, pulling into the open garage before he parked; the dark wooden garage door still up as he came around to open the door for her.<p>

He extended his hand, the black gloved appendage hovering scant millimeters from her face. She bit her lip glancing towards the modern masterpiece tucked back into the dense trees. She loved the two story house with its clean angles and large, picturesque windows; loved the way it was off the main road and tucked back, offering amazing views of the mountains in the distance to the east and the heart of the city to the west. She had oohed and aahed the first-and only-time she'd been brought here.

Chaosia blushed, remembering just how little of the house she'd seen as he'd ushered her to the master bedroom upstairs. And how quickly he'd gotten her out the next morning. She'd understood then-seeing as they had both been incredibly late for work and she'd been more than slightly uncomfortable with how twitchy he'd acted- that they would spend most of their time together at her home. So she couldn't understand why they were here.

_Why had he brought her here?_

"Dear heart?"

Chaosia closed her eyes, shaking her head. She had no idea what was happening but she'd learned-the first time around-that dealing with Albert Wesker wasn't as easy or simple as everyone else always assumed. The man had more hang ups and quirks than a nuttery . . . and she wasn't about to make the same mistake of not speaking up.

_Her heart and mind couldn't handle his second chance any other way._

"What are you doing Albert?"

He sighed, kneeling as he took her hands in his; squeezing them gently as he kept his eyes locked on their intertwined fingers. His voice was soft, softer than she normally heard it. But it didn't weaken her resolve to talk about what they were doing at his home instead of hers.

"You wanted to come home, to enjoy the night together . . . I desire the same-"

She sighed, trying not to let her exasperation shine as she fought the urge to growl. God what was with him tonight? First he'd been trying to get a rise out of her and now he was being all quiet and sincere-vulnerable.

"But why_** here?** _You don't have to do this, we aren't like this-"

He moved, catching her face in his hands; forcing her to look at him. His eyes were stern and guarded as he glared at her over his sunglasses but she could still see that she'd offended him even if his tone hadn't screamed his anger and insult.

"I do not _**casually**_ bring people into my home, Chaosia. Even William has only visited a few times since I relocated. But I-You _***sigh***_ You have taken me into your home-your bed. Is the same not conventionally expected of me?"

Chaosia sighed, looking down as much as she could as she fought the urge to wince. God they'd been having such a good night too . . . now they were doomed to argue. Why had she said anything at all?

"I-_Normally_ yes but-"

"_**Normally?"**_

She finally winced, knowing that tone all too well.

"Yes, Albert-**normally.** We both know you don't do the whole 'normal' relationships deal. Friends, family, lovers-they're all different for you. And that isn't bad-I just had to get used to it."

Wesker growled, tearing his sunglasses off as he glared at her.

"You are the most confusing woman I've encountered! My past lovers have all clamored to be given this chance and you practically throw it back in my face-"

She cut him off, covering his mouth with hers. She lingered, kissing him sweetly before she eased back; tracing his cheek as she smiled up at him.

"I _**want**_ to be here, Albert. But only if you _**want**_ me here. Before we just kind of blundered through-we didn't communicate and things got messy. People got hurt . . ." She swallowed, refusing to point out that she was the one who'd gotten hurt and that he was the one who'd refused to communicate; deciding to let those particular issues lie for the night as she continued on. "So as hard as this is I have to say it, we have to talk. Make sure we're both on the same page."

He looked her over critically, his gaze almost accusing before he pushed to his feet. He caught her hand, tugging her out of the car before he all but drug her out of the garage and down the snow covered path to the front door. He unlocked the door, pushing her inside as he grumbled; his aggravation and embarrassment endearing as he actually blushed.

_Not that she would ever point it out but it was nice to see he was actually capable of the action._

"You act as if I would honestly bring you here if it _**wasn't**_ what I wanted. To be so intelligent you have very dense moments, Dear heart."

Chaosia gave him a deadpan look, refusing to rise to the bait. Especially since he'd admitted that he'd never considered his infidelity before would've been an issue-a definite dense moment in her book if there ever was one. Wesker sighed, shrugging out of his coat before he turned to her expectantly.

"Well? Are you staying or not?"

She shrugged before nodding, handing him her coat with a roll of her eyes. God he had such a roundabout way of asking her to spend the night! But what the hell . . . she would do it. She moved, stretching to her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck; giving him one of her best grins before she brushed her lips against his cheek.

"Well with an invitation like that I don't think I could refuse."


	15. Chapter 15

**Encounter**

_December 1996_

Chaosia rolled her eyes as she followed Khail through Neiman Marcus, trying not to groan as their 'personal shopper' prattled on-and-on over the merits of the new Versace line. God she knew her brother was being sweet, trying to help Claire dress for the internship she so desperately wanted to be accepted for next semester . . . but he was going overboard.

There were already seven matched and fully accessorized outfits at the checkout . . . and she doubted the tomboyish and stubborn Redfield would ever wear them outside of school. Just like Mikhail hardly ever touched his better clothes in favor of jeans and tees. She turned, ready to tell him to hurry when she spotted the soft leather motorcycle jacket; the high collar and simple cut screaming Albert Wesker from across the room.

_If she could convince him to wear the shorter coat instead of the damned trenches he seemed to love. _

She motioned to the clerk, catching her attention as Khail stiffened; glaring over her head. She rolled her eyes speaking to the brightly smiling blonde. Her brother could get over it-she'd tagged along for moral support. She'd never said wouldn't shop for her own Christmas list. Besides Neiman was probably one of the few places she might actually be able to finish Albert's shopping.

_Because she knew he wouldn't dare wear anything but designer and tailored . . . the picky, snobbish jerk._

"Can you get me the sizing for that jacket?"

The woman nodded, moving away just as Khail spoke.

"Oh you've _**got**_ to be fucking kidding."

Chaosia glared, ready to tear him a new ass when a deep voice interrupted her; the sound making her turn to stare at the newcomer hatefully. Until she regained her senses enough to actually start.

"Mikhail?"

Chaosia blinked, the man's face frighteningly familiar as light cold blue eyes took her in; his lips tugging to the side in a smirk. Khail glared hard at the man, his voice frigid as he spoke. She'd seen Khail's temper had gone round and round with him over the stupidest shit but this-she'd never seen him like this. She'd never known he had this kind of cold fury in him . . . meaning that this could only be one person.

"What do _**you**_ want?"

The suited man raised a brow before turning back to her, his eyes warming fractionally as she kept looking to him. This was the man who existed without mattering, who had breathed without living for as long as she'd been alive. Standing here in front of her in a tailored suit acting like it was any other day. She had no idea how long they stood there taking one another in when he moved, stepping closer as he gave her a tiny smile. It was barely a tilt of lip, making Albert's normal smirks seem reminiscent of the Joker's maniacal grins.

She was so caught up in the fact that he smiled that his words caught her off guard, his tone far more familiar than it should've been. Something that made her brother stew even harder behind her.

"You look just like Millennia . . . though you have my mother's hair."

He moved and Chaosia flinched before she could stop herself, Khail in front of her before she could react. He growled, his tone deadly.

"Don't you fucking _**dare**_."

The man sighed, producing a card and handing it to her over Khail's shoulder; his long fingers extending the paper casually. Like she was a potential client or an acquaintance . . . Khail snatched the card before she had to touch it; snorting at the man's words.

"Do have Sebastian call me-since he can't seem to answer _**his** _phone."

"Yeah right, asshole. We'll get right on that."

The man smirked, turning to walk away with a nod; merging back into the throngs of shoppers just as quietly as he'd appeared. But the question was why had he been here to begin with? Khail caught her arm, dragging her in the opposite direction.

"C'mon Chaos. We're done."

Chaosia nodded, glancing back at the tall man moving away; her heart torn. Of all the places to meet him she'd finally happened across Cyrus Shaw. And oddly enough she felt . . . sad. Because the first time she'd met her father it had been like meeting a stranger.


	16. Chapter 16

**Crooked**

_December 1996_

Albert Wesker had always been a self-declared perfectionist. It was a trait that had caused him to clash with other researchers and professionals for years-save William and perhaps the late James Marcus. But in all of his life he had never second guessed it, doing as he pleased so long as it met his ends. And it almost always served him better than just half-assing things the way the others were prone to-even Bastian on occasion.

But as he glared up at the supposedly oh-so-slightly crooked painting he was trying to hang he suddenly understood all of the looks, glares and snarky comments he'd received in his lifetime. As he struggled to keep the monstrous frame up and level-praying that the four hanging supports would be enough to hold the weight so he didn't have to use that damned hammer anymore- he finally got why being under the instruction of a perfectionist was so damned offsetting. Just like he realized that his little lover was nothing like she normally appeared.

Any other time Chaosia would've been content to let him hang it-or to help him and be satisfied with living through the slight imperfection of an off side- but tonight . . . tonight he was getting to see what kept him so damned interested in her. The mean spirited, controlling side buried beneath the sweet smiles and the soft touches. The side that made him at his worst seem calm . . .

_If he was a perfectionist then his petite little lover was an iron fisted dictator._

He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes-visible without the sunglasses now perched precariously on the edge of her coffee table in the den (where he'd thrown them)- narrowed and practically daring her to defy him. While she sat perched on the edge of her dining room table; dressed only in one of his softest black sweaters. The supple dark cashmere and silk blend swallowed her whole, the neck of the shirt hanging off one of her shoulders as she looked back at him defiantly; the sleeves puddling over knuckles. Her long legs were bared to him, hanging lazily from the edge of the table and crossed at the knee; the thick hem of the shirt pulling up just the tiniest bit as she reached over and picked up the fuller of the twin wine glasses. That one lone action letting him see the charcoal and black lace hidden beneath his sweater.

He felt his gaze soften on its own as she sipped the Pinot Noir he'd brought, too enticed with how nice she looked lounging in his clothes drinking his wine to stay upset. He didn't really understand it but seeing her like this made all of the aggravation she'd put him through for the past two hours seem dramatically lessened . . . Until she spoke and he almost ground his molars to silt.

God to be so damned alluring she was infuriating! And did she have to use that infernal nickname?

"Glare all you want _**Albie**_. It's still crooked."

He arranged the frame again, trying not to mutter. He was a damned doctor, the commanding officer for the damned best of the RPD-though that wasn't saying too much most days; and one of the brightest minds Umbrella had ever seen! He could splice genes and viruses together to make cures and plagues . . . so what if he wasn't the greatest at hanging _**her**_ massive Christmas present? He usually hired people to do this . . . and she should be thankful that he actually wanted to do this for her. But the second she sighed he felt his thinning patience snap and fray, rounding on her.

In the back of his mind he knew they hadn't been reconciled long enough for him to react like this but he couldn't seem to stop himself. So it had taken him almost two months to get back into her good graces . . . he wasn't going to put up with this. Especially when he hadn't done anything wrong! Hell he hadn't even sent the RPD in the wrong direction in almost a month! He'd been doing straight police work, STARS helping SVU track down the sorted members of a child slavery and prostitution ring.

"**God_dammit_** Chaosia! Would you just let me hang the damned thing!"

She flinched, her eyes widening before she glared. She pushed off the table, pointing from him towards the front door. Her voice firm even as her shoulders sagged and her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. He stilled, watching her as she tried to keep herself together. And suddenly he realized that she wasn't really ill with him . . . she was just stressed.

"**Out.** Get _**out!**_ I am not dealing with this, Albert. Not on Christmas Eve. Not with everything else going on! Just take it and go-"

He sighed, catching her as she went to spin away; bringing her to him. He dipped, running his nose down her jaw; kissing each bit of soft flesh as soon as his lips touched it. Wesker willed his aggravation away, trying to contain himself. He'd known this would be hard for her-even if she hadn't come out and said it. And he knew he needed to be patient.

_Even if he wanted to snap her neck for being so damned aggravating._

"Forgive me, Dear Heart. I didn't mean to snap. It is just cumbersome-"

"Then let Khail and Bastian help you tomorrow!"

He sighed, tracing her cheek.

"I want you to be able to display it, dear heart. To rub it in his face-"

She snorted, her nervousness about tomorrow's upcoming dinner a little more obvious.

"I don't care about that Albert. Actually I hope he flakes . . ."

He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, dipping to ghost his own over her cheek. But he could hear the lie in her words, taste just how torn she was over all of this. And even though he had his own reasons for wanting this to happen what little of a heart he had was breaking with her.

"_**I**_ care, dear heart. He _**will**_ come tomorrow-if only to cause an issue for your brothers. Besides he _**is**_ your father . . . you want to make a lasting impression."

She snorted again, cutting her eyes to him; letting him see the sheer malice bubbling there. He kissed her, mumbling against her lips as he fought the urge to grin. God he knew it was wrong-that it made him closer to the devil he was already becoming but he loved seeing her angry. Especially when it wasn't at him.

"Or you want to make him suffer. Either way I want this up before we go to bed."

She pouted, resting her hands against his chest; looking up at him through her wet lashes. Her voice was soft and husky, her eyes almost pleading before she glanced back to her fingers; the long slim digits playing with the button to his uniform shirt as she shrugged.

"What if I just wanted_** you?**_ To spend the night with you . . . before everything goes to hell tomorrow."

He grinned down to her savagely, his fingers catching her just below her jaw; forcing her face up to his before they trailed down the curve of her neck. He was glad she didn't seem to mind his occasional rough handling of her anymore, or that despite her light skin that she didn't bruise easily.

"That can be arranged, Dear Heart . . . As soon as this straight."

She rolled her eyes before nodding, tugging him close as she rubbed her cheek against his heart. Her shoulders relaxed as she sighed, her voice soft again but repentant.

"I'm sorry Albert. I'm just-its hard. Its been so easy to just ignore his existence. I mean I've never met him-hell I've only seen him in my mother's photos and occasionally in the news for doing something 'generous and philanthropically sound' with his millions before all of this. I-"

She growled, wringing her hands through her curls as she closed her eyes. He watched her for a second before he moved, tugging her close and tucking her against his chest as he sighed. And as she began to relax, her cheek resting over his heart as her fingers fisted in his shirt he had to admit he was anxious over this meeting as well.

_Though for different reasons . . ._

Her father-one Cyrus Shaw-had been a prominent researcher and later business mogul within Umbrella almost two decades ago, right when he and William had first begun their tentative foray into the company's underbelly. The man however had jumped ship to another company- the equally prestigious Tricell- in 92 . . . and taken a great deal of their older research with him to grease the wheels.

Wesker fought the urge to grind his teeth, trying not let himself become too angry. He knew-as William had repeatedly assured him-that Shaw had no inclination as to who had actually conducted the research and experiments he'd taken (Spencer's own paranoia restricting the man's access in the years before his defection an odd blessing in this instance) but it still enraged him that someone had taken from him.

So what if it was only an attempt to combine a weak virus with an equally weak bacterial strain to force breed a 'super antibiotic'- something that had been far more trouble than it was worth, not to mention costly- but it was still the principle of the matter. The man had proven-long before Wesker had ever even glimpsed at Bastian Shaw's files or attempted to engage in this relationship with Chaosia- that he was only out for himself. The only things that he even tried to obtain being objects and people of worth. Something that-apparently-one or all of the Shaw siblings had suddenly become.

_Wesker just didn't know which it was._

Chaosia sighed, her arms sliding down to wrap around his waist; nuzzling her nose over his heart as his fingers smoothed through her curls seemingly on their own. He didn't know what Shaw wanted with the children he'd abandoned but he found himself easily admitting that he would kill him before he allowed the girl in his arms to be part of it. He might use her-occasionally-to make sure that the nosy busybodies within the RPD and the Coroners Office weren't getting too close to anything Umbrella did or planned . . . but he would be damned to the darkest pits of hell if anyone else would.

She was his until she wasn't useful anymore. And when that day came he fully intended to snap her neck himself.

She shifted her voice small as she spoke.

"You'll be here tomorrow . . . **_right?_**"

He nodded, smirking into her curls. He was definitely going to be present if only to see Shaw's face when he saw him. They'd met-a few times-while he'd been at the Arklay facility. And he couldn't wait to see how the man was going to react to his presence in his daughter's home. Or more importantly to the knowledge that he shared her bed. He knew he could control whatever arose should the man try to cause issue . . . just like he knew that it would do well to-despite how he felt-to not completely ostracize the idiot.

_One never knew when a person could be useful._

"I wouldn't miss it, Dear Heart. Are you still intending to accompany me to William's?"

She grinned, nodding as she cuddled closer. But the tone her voice had taken on had him grinning with her, shaking his head as he tried not to chuckle. God in heaven help the Birkins because while he didn't see much of a use for Christmas-or any holiday-Chaosia loved it. And had used that self-professed love as an excuse to spoil his goddaughter with as much love and affection (and horrible but wonderful gifts) as possible.

"And miss Sherry opening her presents?"

He dipped, chucking evilly despite his best efforts.

"Why did you get her a chemistry set again?"

She moved, pressing her lips against his throat; nipping lightly at the spot beneath his jaw. The one tiny gesture setting fire to his blood while her words left him groaning. God why had he insisted on this? Oh yes . . . because-according to everyone else-this is what normal people in relationships did for Christmas.

Though he bet none of them-save the ex she refused to name-had ever had to deal with Chaosia's habits.

"Because her Uncle Albert got her a microscope and stain set . . . Ready to hang my wonderful Christmas present, Mr. Wesker?"

He grinned down at her before turning back to glare at the painting, stepping away to try and get the thing on the wall again. Chaosia however moved with him, taking the opposite side of the ornate glittering frame as he raised a brow. She shrugged, giving him a bashful smile as she blushed.

"What? I might not be superwoman but I can try to help. And the faster we get this up the faster I can give you yours."

He raised a brow before relenting; making sure to keep as much of the weight on his side as he could while they arranged the massive painting on the hangers. All the while trying to make sure that she didn't see the back even as she tried to peek. He situated it on the wall, giving her a pointed look as she looked to him perplexedly. He still didn't know why he'd gone through the trouble to place the small inscription and the certification on the back of the frame but he had. And while he didn't regret it-actually having it out and on paper made him feel just the tiniest bit more at peace about this- he didn't want to deal with her reaction tonight. Especially not when she'd just confessed to having something for him. Even after he'd warned her not to waste her time.

* * *

><p>As they both stepped back together, Chaosia fell under Wesker's arm naturally. She leaned against him, looking up over the gift he'd given her; trying to put the words together to properly thank him. The heavy silver frame was tarnished and patina; making the taupes, greys, whites and blacks that blended together into the dripping abstract tree pop. The one bright colorful element was the lone red bird perched high in the gnarled branches, the detailed silhouette vibrant against the neutrals.<p>

She glanced up, leaning just a bit heavier into him. He looked down, his blue eyes scanning her face before flitting back to the painting. He searched it critically before he spoke, his wording curt and harsh even though his tone was almost sedate.

"Well? Does it meet your approval now, your highness?"

She glanced back to the painting, her eyes perusing the swells and swirls of the medium critically before she nodded. And she felt him relax just the tiniest bit beside her at her words. She had no idea that he hadn't bought the piece, actually commissioning the massive thing-just for her-months before, using a fairly new abstract artist here in the area. Or that the same artist had refused to part with a single painting for the very Police Chief that had been giving both her and her lover hell for the past three months.

"Its _perfect_, _**Albie**_. Thank you."

Wesker dipped, placing a kiss to the curls near her temple-one of his odd little habits but she honestly didn't mind- before he picked up his untouched glass of wine. He drained almost half of it as she settled against him, seeming more than slightly pleased with himself now that she'd actually thanked him for the gift. He let the glass fall from his lips, his mouth tugging into a lecherous grin as he dipped; running his nose down the side of hers as his voice dropped. God he would be unbearable if she didn't do something about this . . . and she didn't feel like stroking his already inflated ego for the rest of the night.

"I am overjoyed that you approve, Dear Heart. Now what was this I heard about a gift, hm?"

She looked up at him through her lashes, trying to figure out just how to put this. She glanced back at the wall, seeing the ever-so-slight tilt to the left side of the frame. The side he wouldn't let her near when they'd finally hung it. It wasn't bad enough that anyone would ever notice it but she did.

"I know you said not to get you anything but I couldn't resist. And I do appreciate the painting . . ."

She watched him carefully, waiting until he went to take another drink of the wine before she spoke. And if it weren't for her honest concern she would've laughed at the way he choked and sputtered; his eyes wide as they locked on her incredulously. She bit back a grin as he turned to glare at the painting, his eyes moving over it before he turned back to her.

"It's still crooked, though."

He glared at her, looking back to the painting before he sighed; frustrated before he killed the rest of his wine. He moved by the table, grabbing the bottle before he caught her wrist with his free hand; tugging her behind him as he made his way to the steps. And as they started up towards her bedroom-taking the stairs two and three at a time-she couldn't stop herself from laughing at him.

_Note to self: **Never** criticize Albert Wesker's picture hanging abilities._

"To hell with it! Your brothers can help straighten it out before your father arrives. We are going to bed."

"But _**Albert!**_ Your present is downstairs in the office!"

"I'll open it _**tomorrow **_Chaosia. _**We**_ are going to _**bed!**_"

Chaosia laughed, not even daring to tell him that-as of three hours ago-Khail had informed her that not only would he and Bastian be here at eleven to help set up . . . but both of the Redfields would be joining them. God, Christmas with her father and brothers, Wesker and the Redfields.

_She didn't know if her poor sanity was going to survive this._


	17. Chapter 17

****_Okay because we all know that a holiday with a new significant other can be awkward at best-most of the time its pretty much a new kind of hell. Lets see how poor Wesker fairs with that. I own nothing here but my OCs and the idea. And yes I know that sometimes things get just a little OOC but it all serves a purpose. Just a reminder that this is AU. Oh and just to warn I've been editing these chapters in the hospital so if I miss something I'm sorry-the mind is pretty much fried at this point. Thanks so much for the reviews, faves and alerts! It means a lot. On with the show!_

* * *

><p><strong>Tinsel<strong>

_December 1996_

Albert Wesker had never been so uncomfortable in all of his life. He'd assumed that as soon as Cyrus Shaw had stepped through the doors of Chaosia's home that the tension between the absentee patriarch and his children would keep him from being at the forefront. That the sheer animosity and resentment that Bastian and Mikhail both harbored towards the man would be all anyone would be able to focus on. That is until Mikhail had strolled through the door with not one but both of the Redfields in tow-effectively putting him right where he didn't want to be. The center of the fucking attention.

Because Redfield was damned intent that the two of them were going to wrangle Bastian and provide a distraction from the obviously difficult setting. Just as Claire was working hard to keep Khail contained and engage Chaosia.

Wesker shifted in his spot on the patio, rolling his neck from side to side with a snort and roll of his eyes. Claire had learned the hard way that trying to engage Chaosia while she was set on a task-even one so seemingly trivial as preparing the monstrous dinner and keeping the impressive table setting pristine- was like trying to get William away from his precious G. He turned, glancing through the French doors into the media room; watching Redfield try to keep a conversation going as the three Shaw males sat in apparent silence. Cyrus had perched himself in the farthest corner of the sectional, his left leg crossed over his knee; a thick unlit clove cigar in one hand and a glass of Chaosia's scotch in the other as he smirked and shook his head at the glares from his sons.

Wesker sighed shaking his head as he watched Bastian glare over Chris's head at his father, his blue eyes cold and hard while Khail ground his teeth and grumbled; Claire leaning into his side hard enough to anchor him to the couch. He watched them for a moment, keeping his ears trained on Redfield's rambling as the man tried to lighten the obviously tense atmosphere with joke after joke; his attempts becoming slightly more desperate with every failure.

He snorted to himself, turning to look back over the manicured lawn as he took a deep pull from his own glass. Nothing about today had gone as it was supposed to . . . and it only seemed like it was going to get worse. He shifted again, glancing to his watch before sagging into the chair; his head lulling back.

_Christ and to think he'd willingly passed going to the Birkins earlier for this?_

The door opening caught his attention, bringing his eyes to meet very amused light blue as none other than Cyrus himself stepped outside; flicking a thick silver lighter open before holding the flame to the cigar. Wesker watched the man closely, taking in the changes the past twenty years had wrought upon the older researcher. His eyes were still the same eerie light blue that he remembered, set in the same stern smug face framed by thick dark hair. Sure there were a few new lines near his mouth and eyes-and the beginnings of small silver patches at his temples- but for the most part he was the same man he'd known before.

Cyrus moved settling into the seat opposite him, the shade from the snow covered veranda partially shrouding him in shadow as he puffed on the cigar idly; the cherry glowing a bright red for a few moments before he let his hand rest against his knee as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. The slight movement causing ash to fall from the smoldering cherry; glittering before it faded to grey and blended with the stone patio. Wesker narrowed his eyes, suddenly aggravated with Chaosia for requisitioning his sunglasses for the duration of this fiasco. He hated it when people looked him in the eye, tried to figure out his next move through whatever they saw on his face.

_And Cyrus had always been the worst one about attempting it . . . and one of the more successful in achieving. _

The eldest Shaw shifted in his seat, settling deeper into the soft chair as he raised a brow; his face void of emotion save the lone inquisitive gesture. Wesker fought the urge to grind his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. He wouldn't act out because of their history-not the way William would if he were present- but he wasn't about to let this man try to intimidate him as he once had.

Shaw was no longer his superior and Wesker himself was no longer the same eager eighteen year old, vying for approval and results in order to stay ahead of the others. He was the superior now-in more ways than one. But none of that mattered when the man finally spoke, his voice the same dark deep baritone that had always made William jump when he'd been over them.

"I must admit I am _**intrigued**_ to find you amongst my children, Albert."

Wesker snorted, giving him a deadpan look as he sat a little straighter; making sure to keep his eyes level with the other man's as responded. He was thrilled that his voice didn't announce his displeasure and discomfort-though he knew Shaw was already acutely aware of their presence; and he made sure to sound as bored as he possibly could. No need to give away any more than he already had.

"I do not see why. Surely you are aware that your son is one of my officers within STARs."

Cyrus shrugged his brows, taking another long draw from the cigar before he ashed it on the patio; Wesker himself cringing when he watched the fat clump of grey fall to the stone. Chaosia was going to spontaneously combust when she discovered her porch was being used as an ashtray. If she didn't snap and slaughter the now smug man before they ate dinner that is.

"Oh I am aware, Albert. What I do not understand is why you are here. I never expected you to take the time to actually consort with others-aside from _**Birkin**_ of course. And even that little bond took **necessity** to instigate rather than _**true**_ camaraderie."

Wesker glared, his eyes narrowing as he shifted in his seat. He heard the thinly veiled insult behind Shaw's words and it would not go unanswered. But as he opened his mouth to speak the patio door opened, Chaosia pushing outside quickly with a rather full tumbler of scotch in hand. She never glanced towards Shaw as she crossed to him, settling herself on his knee without permission or invitation. Wesker watched her as she shifted, draining a large portion of the dark liquor before she offered him the glass; her eyes dangerously glassy and unfocused.

He moved, sliding the crystal glass from her fingers and setting it aside-stealing a stout swallow for himself before he caught her hands; twining their fingers together as she sagged against him. She slumped, her head falling on his shoulder as she curled herself in his lap; her tired sigh screaming louder than any words she could've chosen. Wesker sighed, dipping to brush his lips against her brow; resting his cheek against her curls as she closed her eyes. All the while blissfully unaware of the shocked infuriated look her father was shooting him over her head.

But as Shaw opened his mouth to speak Chaosia's voice broke the thick silence, the strained edge to her joke causing Cyrus's mouth to snap shut almost instantly.

"I think Chris Redfield might've missed his calling in life . . . he should've been a mediator."

Wesker raised a brow, glancing back down to her as she looked up to him; peaking at him through her lashes as she worried her already chapped bottom lip. Slowly he extracted one of his hands from hers, reaching up to push her hair from her face before he brushed her lips with his thumb; freeing the poor abused appendage from her blunt white teeth with a sigh.

"And why pray tell is that, Dear heart?"

Chaosia blushed up at him prettily but her lips spread into a shy grin, her eyes clearing as she laughed weakly; leaning into his touch as he cupped her face. She kissed the heel of his hand, shaking her head slightly as she looked up to him thankfully. Like this one moment-his touch had been enough to keep her from crumbling.

"Because he's actually gotten Khail to laugh _**twice**_ in the past few minutes."

Wesker chuckled, shaking his head as he dipped; pressing his forehead to hers. He knew that he should point out that they weren't alone, tell her that the source of her problems was lurking scant inches from them but he couldn't bring himself to. She seemed so haggard before and now she was relaxing, smiling and laughing . . . he wasn't ready to rob her of that. He glanced past her as she shifted to lay her cheek against his shoulder again, her hand squeezing his as his eyes locked with Shaw's.

The man glared at him, his light blue eyes practically frigid while his jaw was set hard; his lips a thin line as his fingers balled and formed fists. Causing the cigar to crumble and warp before he could stop himself. Wesker didn't fight the smug smirk that spread across his lips at Chaosia's next soft words. Just like he didn't feel even the slightest bit out of sorts pressing his lips to her temple, tugging her tighter as he glared pointedly at the man that had abandoned her. Cyrus Shaw might be her biological father, he might be her genetic family but he had greatly underestimated his actual place within her world-within their world.

The man might have blood ties to his little lover but for all intents and purposes she was his. She was his tool to use, his to break and remold if he saw fit. Not Cyrus's. And he would be damned if he'd let Shaw or anyone else try to trifle with her.

"Thank you Albert . . . for being here. I know you had rather not be."

* * *

><p>Cyrus Shaw watched Albert Wesker practically cuddle his daughter, keeping the girl tucked against him as he glared across the patio. But what concerned him wasn't the way Chaosia clung to the blonde-not with the way Millennia had clung to him before their marriage crumbled. It wasn't how she leaned into him and kept his hand, or how her soft husky voice sounded so vulnerable and open. He'd known at some point his daughter would follow in her mother's footsteps; that she would fall in love with someone who would most likely be undeserving of her. That was the way of daughters after all.<p>

No what bother him, Cyrus decided had nothing to do with Chaosia at all. And everything to do with Wesker. Albert fucking Wesker. The very same Albert Wesker who had been one of Umbrella's golden children; one of Ozwell Spencer's own personal pets. His private crusade to correct all of the 'flaws' in humanity in the fucking flesh.

This was the man that was responsible for James Marcus death; that had helped Birkin further craft the T-virus into the monster it surely was today. The man who had always been so _**eager **_to please Spencer, to try and fight his way through Umbrella and rip a bigger place for himself. Just as Alex had done before him-before he'd been made aware of their true nature (their purpose) and broken away to save what was left of his humanity.

Cyrus shifted, his eyes narrowing as he took in the way Albert held Chaosia. While wasn't extremely affectionate he wasn't overly callous with her-something he'd seen the boy do time and again while he'd been at Arklay. It was no secret among the younger researchers that Wesker had been a favorite of the female researchers and assistants. Just as Shaw himself had heard-more than once- James Marcus have to mediate some dispute between the members of said demographic. Because while Wesker wasn't cruel enough to promise flights of fancy and romance he hadn't cared if he slept with more than one person . . . or if his lovers knew of one another.

_Something James had always joked would be his undoing if Birkin didn't kill them with some erratic stunt or experiment first._

Chaosia shifted, sighing as she leaned heavier against Wesker; her fingers fisting in the dark slate blue fabric of his shirt as the man tugged her closer. Cyrus narrowed his eyes, trying to spot the end of the act; trying to see where this newfound concern ebbed and receded . . . only to realize that it _didn't_. Wesker was glaring at him over the girl, his entire being threatening swift retribution should he act out-but there was nothing discernibly false about his affection.

Meaning that-from what he was seeing here- Cyrus had best prepare to welcome the egoistical little shit into his family. Whether he liked it or not.

He grunted, rolling his eyes as he moved to fish another cigar from his coat; the action causing Chaosia's back to straighten as she turned. Looking to him incredulously before she turned to glare even harder at Albert. Who merely shrugged his brows, his hand sliding to rest on the small of her back; his fingers working small circles over her spine as he spoke.

"Settle, Dear heart. He merely did not wish to smoke inside your _**lovely **_home. _**Right**_ Mr. Shaw?"

Cyrus raised a brow before snorting, dipping his chin to his daughter as she regarded him skeptically. Finally she sighed, pushing out of Wesker's hold and towards the door to the house; shaking her head as she went. Moments later she returned with a large crystal ashtray, extending the glittering piece to him with a pointed look; her eyes narrowing once she spotted the ash on the stone at his feet.

"While I appreciate the sentiment please keep in mind that this is part of _**my**_ **lovely** home. And I refuse to clean up after grown men who should _**know**_ how to ask for an **ashtray**."

Cyrus blinked, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the biting smirk fleeting across Wesker's lips; followed closely by what sounded dangerously like a snicker. And suddenly he understood the slight cringe from moments before; and how he'd kept glancing back to the growing pile of ash at his feet-without ever bothering to voice that he was doing something against his child. He fought back a growl, taking the ashtray from his daughter as she nodded; her own light eyes cutting to Wesker as she glared. Albert however didn't seem too bothered by her ire, grinning up to her with a lazy shrug as she crossed her arms.

"And _**you**_ couldn't tell him where it was _**because**_?"

Wesker rolled his eyes, giving her the same deadpan look he'd given him; nodding his chin towards the media room. But where his words obviously did little to soothe Chaosia they made Cyrus himself feel just the slightest bit at ease with the man's presence here. From everything he'd seen he wasn't here for Umbrella-for whatever Spencer could possibly want with his children, be it retribution for his abandonment or something he'd overlooked in his forced absence. He was here for them-or more to the point Chaosia.

"I am here because you asked me to be, dear heart. _**Not**_ to babysit. **Besides** Bastian would attempt to make my life hell if he knew I'd spoken to begin with."

Chaosia rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air before she stalked back into the house; calling over her shoulder before she slammed the door.

"Oh for Christ's sakes! Why can't you men just make this as painless as possible? I mean honestly-dinner will be done in ten minutes so get whatever macho bullshit out of the way. Because I refuse to have the lot of you arguing and glaring over this damned meal! Its almost seven and we have to be at William's by nine."

Wesker shook his head before turning to Cyrus, his eyes narrowing again; all of the teasing and cordiality that had emerged vanishing with his daughter's absence. The blonde inclined his head, his tone cold as he spoke.

"What are you doing here, Shaw?"

Cyrus bristled, glaring as the sounds of movement carried to them through the doors; the setting sun announcing that it was actually as late as Chaosia had claimed it to be. Soft flurries of white slowly drifted to them, settling on the floor and furniture as the temperature began to steadily drop. Not that either of them felt it-no they were far too concerned with cold looks and frigid words to be weary of a little snow.

"I wanted to meet my daughter-to see my family now that I am able."

Wesker snorted, shaking his head.

"You're _**not**_ able, Shaw. You shouldn't even think of returning to the country, much less Raccoon City. Spencer doesn't forget the people who fuck him over . . . and he sure as hell doesn't let them go unpunished. You shouldn't be here-not around them."

"You mean _her_, don't you? I will only say this once, Albert. You need to stay away from my children, from her. If you don't I can't promise she won't discover exactly what you've done for Spencer-"

Wesker pushed to his feet, glaring down at Shaw as stretched to his full height. Allowing Cyrus to see just how much had changed since he'd last seen the boy. Gone were the awkward lanky limbs and lithe build he'd held all of those years before; in their place thick, defined muscle. He was no longer the same cold but brilliant boy who'd rather glare at you than speak; who had clamored to be recognized amongst the other researchers. No this was a completely different person.

He was still cold and brilliant but now he was deadly, molded by Spencer's hand into something worthy of fearing . . . even if he himself was unaware.

"You stole from me, Cyrus. You left William and I to deal with the aftermath of your betrayal with nothing more than that aging imbecile Marcus to speak that we weren't involved. You left two pupils to incur the wrath of the very man you fled from. You know nothing of me anymore _**old man**_ and I refuse to be threatened. If you so much as dare to think of telling Chaosia anything about my time with Umbrella I will bury you."

Cyrus stood, glaring evenly at Wesker as he growled.

"Not without burying yourself too boy. I am well aware of _**who**_ pulled the trigger on Marcus-and of what has transpired within the company over the past twenty years; even before Spencer went public with Umbrella. Speak against me and you burn yourself, _**little boy**_. And I will do so gladly. I refuse to allow my children to become a part of Spencer's insanity-of whatever game you're playing. I know you've taken on STARs, Albert. And though I can't see to what end I know that it isn't innocent. I have no idea what Spencer wants here but I won't have it. You-"

"I answer to no one but myself, Cyrus-save when I'm on duty. _**I**_ chose to be where I am-to be **with **_**her**_. And if you so much as breathe a word of this to Chaosia you will find nothing to connect me to Umbrella."

Cyrus snorted, turning away to light his new cigar with a huff.

"I doubt that boy. There's always something to link you to Umbrella-even if you don't know about it. You practically belong to them-to him. I can find something if I dig hard enough."

Wesker smirked, his face dangerously closed as he chuckled; shaking his head condescendingly. And Cyrus was left spinning. He'd had no clue Albert had left research at all-that he'd transferred to another division. Was it possible that the boy was telling the truth? That he'd really cut all ties with Umbrella and Spencer?

"I spent three years in Eastern Europe cleaning up Sergie's massacres-dealing with the issues within the Intelligence Bureau Dr. Shaw. I am more than capable of making my part in a few years of research disappear. Just as I can easily make your involvement in the Trevors' unfortunate case far more nefarious than it actually was."

Cyrus glared before sighing, giving him a pointed look as he motioned to him. In another three years this little farce wouldn't even touch him but now-with what he was trying to accomplish he couldn't afford it. Not yet. Meaning he had to do as the little shit wanted.

_Oh how the mighty have fallen. _

"Well? What do you want, **boy**?

* * *

><p>Chaosia sat at the head of the table, Bastian to her left while Wesker was to her right. Khail had taken the seat directly beside their brother with Claire beside him-leaving Chris to take up residence beside Wesker. While Cyrus had taken the other chair at the end, keeping a considerable amount of distance between himself and the rest of them.<p>

_Or-more to the point- himself and Albert_.

She shifted, picking at the turkey idly as she glanced at the faces surrounding her table; trying to place exactly what had happened while she'd gone to liberate the giant bird from the oven. One minute she'd been awed by Chris making Khail laugh then the next she'd been chastising Albert and Cyrus-because she absolutely refused to think of him as anything other than that today- for using her patio as an ashtray.

She rolled her eyes before cutting her gaze to Albert, taking in every minute detail of his appearance. His hair was still swept back from his face and his clothes-a nice pressed blue dress shirt and immaculate tailored navy slacks- were still in order. He didn't have a single speck of dirt or debris on him and his knuckles weren't bloody or bruised. No to the untrained eye he seemed just as she'd left him . . . but she could still see something was different.

He was quiet-which was probably a blessing with so many swelling egos and fragile sensibilities- but he wasn't withdrawn and irritable like he had been. No, her lover was damn close to smug. Actually he was only half a step away from preening . . . exactly the same way he'd been when she'd finally thanked him for her Christmas gift.

Wesker looked up from his plate just as he lifted a bite of the pork she'd made-especially for him because God in heaven help them and Albert Wesker eat something that wasn't gourmet-, raising a brow as the fork hovered near his lips. Chaosia narrowed her eyes, giving him a pointed loo before nodding ever-so-slightly to the dark hole at the end of her table. Albert cut his eyes to Shaw before his lips twitched, the smirk gone almost before she could register it as he dipped his chin to her. He took the bite, chewing slowly before swallowed; reaching out to lace his fingers with hers.

He lifted her hand to his face, brushing his lips over her knuckles with a pointed look before he let her hand fall. Leaving her with far more questions than she'd had before. Wesker turned, nodding to Bastian across the table as he raised a brow; Khail turning away from Claire to furrow his own before he glanced back to Cyrus. Who was glowering right at Wesker hard enough to make her want to squirm.

Chaosia watched, enthralled by what was happening before her eyes as her brothers shared a look before nodding; Khail returning to his previous conversation while Bastian struck one with her. Chris took the silent cue and looked to Cyrus, asking innocent questions while Claire looked to him like he was crazy.

"So uh, Mr. Shaw? How do like being in Raccoon for Christmas, sir?"

"I find it quite nice, actually Christopher. A vast improvement over last year-even with so many new and _**unexpected**_ faces."

As Cyrus answered Claire's blue eyes shot to meet her own, neither of them understanding exactly what had transpired-only that the men around them had carried on some unspoken conversation. But as the tension broke-and Bastian slowly started to join Chris and Cyrus's discussion she knew she was probably happier in the dark. She shrugged, Claire shaking her head before turning to Khail. Chaosia rolled her eyes, settling into her seat just as a warm hand settled on her lap; thick long fingers squeezing her thigh reassuringly.

Chaosia turned, blue meeting blue as she caught Wesker's eye; his now overly smug look making her want to groan aloud. Christ now-somehow someway- he would take credit for creating the semi-peaceful atmosphere . . . Meaning he would be impossible to deal with for the rest of the night. She snorted, rolling her eyes again before she picked up her glass of wine; taking a rather large gulp as the hand on her thigh trailed up ever-so-slightly.

She choked, glaring at him as he shifted closer; using patting her back as an excuse to trail his fingers over her shoulder and neck before they took her glass from her. Wesker kept his eyes on her, never acting as though every other person wasn't staring-or glaring in her family's case- while he chastised her good naturedly.

"Careful, Dear heart. I would hate for something to ruin your _**perfect**_ dinner."

_Scratch that-Albert Wesker was going to be Hell to deal with for the rest of the damned year! And probably most of the next one._

* * *

><p><em>on to the next one.<em>


	18. Chapter 18

_I don't anything but the idea and the OCs here peeps. And yes I know someone who's done something like this-actually two somebodies. It still amazes me that with a collective IQ of over 350 my cousins are still the world's biggest jackasses when it comes to simple things. Like how to put oil in a car or how to microwave pizza rolls without setting the house on fire . . . and to think, they're supposedly geniuses. _**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Resolution<strong>

_New Year's Eve 1996_

Albert Wesker shifted in the back booth of O' Flanagan's, glaring at the sea of swaying drunkards that had crowded around the STARs table. Or more to the point _**his**_ table-because he was the only one still seated. He rolled his eyes before jumping slightly as the table was jarred and the plethora of glasses swayed and splashed, his eyes shooting up to glare at the rather intoxicated couple that had stumbled into it.

The man nodded to him, flushed from both embarrassment and over indulgence before he ushered his giggling teetering companion away; barely offering a passable apology as they melted back into the throngs of people. Honestly how had so many people crammed themselves into such a small establishment? And all to watch a broadcast of a glorified ball of Christmas lights descend through the last minute of the year.

Wesker snorted, slinging the now room temperature beer from his hands before he crossed his arms; closing his eyes as he tried to force the noise and ruckus away. He needed to be at the Stationhouse finishing up the drill and training routines for the beginning of the year before he moved on to updating the paperwork and assigning the workloads for the upcoming month. And that was only for his position within STARs! That wasn't even counting all of the information he had to log away and document for his report to his superiors within Umbrella.

He needed to be doing work! Not sitting here lollygagging with his officers, watching them make fools of themselves.

But even as the thought rattled through his head he knew it was pointless to bemoan his fate. Part of his assignment was to integrate himself within the PD-to make himself as much a part of them as he could so as not to rouse suspicion. And part of that meant occasionally doing things he'd rather not.

_Like babysitting his lover's wayward drunk of a brother._

Wesker turned, his eyes searching out the eldest Shaw sibling just in time to see the man take another shot against Speyer and Frost. The younger officers both sputtering and gagging before they tapped the bar, signaling the keep for another round. While Bastian just laughed and joked with Redfield; Burton standing close enough to intervene should things get out of hand.

Wesker shook his head, shifting in the too small booth again as his phone buzzed; the normally aggravating sound music to his ears. He reached into his pocket, pulling the cumbersome thing free before he answered; knowing only two people would dare call him at this hour of the night. Though in all honesty only one of them would survive the encounter unscathed.

"Wesker."

"_Wow Al. It sounds like you're having so much fun. Are you sure I can't come?"_

Wesker closed his eyes, trying not to growl into the phone as William's mirthful voice carried to him over the other sounds. Leave it to Birkin to find amusement in his harassment. And to be dense enough to think he could rub it in without fear of payback. He ground his teeth, all but biting out his answer as another scantily clad female waltzed by his table; giggling and waving to him before disappearing into the crowds surrounding the bar.

For most of the night he'd been consistently approached by more than few members of the fairer sex-though they seemed to get drunker and less intelligent as the night wore on-and he was about to snap. The only thing he hated more how he was actually adhering to the monogamy he'd promised Chaosia (God him practicing monogamy! Willingly!) was how relieved he was that he didn't have to interact with the simpletons out in droves. While pretty to look at he knew they weren't worth more than throwaways-one night stands too plastered to remember their names, much less his. And the men hovering around them, trying to take advantage of their impairment where almost as fucking bad.

_God he just wanted to go home!_

"You are well aware of why you cannot be here, William. What do you want?"

William sniffed over the phone, his tone sounding overly hurt and dramatic as he whined. Which just made Wesker roll his eyes all over again. If he found out that Birkin had been in the eggnog again then he would personally gut the idiot. And make Annette clean up the mess for allowing it to happen. Christmas Day had been bad enough with the idiot's drunken caroling and slurred promises that they-meaning Birkin and himself-would eventually take their 'lovely ladies' on a holiday together.

Thank God Chaosia came from a family of functioning alcoholics or she would've probably believed his half-hearted agreement to go to Tahiti next spring-so long as William shut up.

"_Well, I was calling to let someone talk to you. But since you're being so pissy I guess I'll just call back."_

Wesker growled, his already fraying patience wearing dangerously thin as he snapped into the phone.

"What do you want, Birkin?"

"_Wow. I hope you don't talk to my brother that way when you're ill, Albert. Or we're going to have a problem."_

Wesker stilled, pulling the phone back to check the number again. But it was William's cellular that had called him.

"Chaosia?"

"_Yes. You weren't kidding when you said you didn't want to go were you?"_

He blinked, his brain still trying to process what was happening. William was with Chaosia-alone-and she was talking to him on his friend's phone. But why? What had happened for them to be together? And more to the point where were they? Chaosia was supposed to be at work-the whole damned reason he'd been successfully roped into attending this damned debacle to begin with! Without her to buffer Bastian he'd been effectively left to the eldest Shaw's mercy. And had to attend the 'bonding' session Shaw and Burton had sought to turn the New Year's Eve tradition into.

"What-where are you?"

She laughed over the line, the sound light and airy as William's voice carried behind her; muffled by the sounds of wind.

"_Outside. If you want to step out-"_

He didn't give her time to finish, ending the call as he all but darted out of the booth; pushing towards the exit. He stepped outside, the cold momentarily shocking before he turned; spotting Chaosia standing at the front of her Chevelle. Looking to the phone in her hands like she could make it explode while William tried desperately to smooth her obviously ruffled feathers.

"That ass hung up on me!"

"Now he could've lost signal, Chaosia. It's still relatively new technology-they haven't worked all of the bugs out yet-"

"He hung up on me, Will. He didn't lose signal. But he's _going_ to lose his **_head._**"

Wesker cleared his throat, stepping forward just as William went to speak again; his sudden presence making William jump and yelp while Chaosia glared at him.

"Oh _**really?**_ And why pray tell is that, Dear heart? Are you not supposed to be at work?"

She rolled her eyes before pointing to William, her tone more than irritated as his friend ducked his head. But the gleam to Will's eye told Wesker that he was anything but contrite and apologetic-meaning that he'd purposefully done this.

"I _**was**_ at work. Until I got this wonderful phone call twenty minutes ago. It seems that the oh-so-intelligent Dr. Birkin can't remember to put oil in his car. And then drove another 10,000 miles."

Wesker raised a brow, looking to Chaosia in askance; his ego taking a hit as she looked at him like he was insane. He could remember how to split atoms, how to combine gene sequences in viruses and bacteria to make weapons and _cures._ It wasn't like he was expected to remember everything he'd learned in physics and engineering.

"And?"

"_**And?**_ Oh my God! **And** cars need oil and gas and transmission fluid and brake fluid to run properly. Not to mention regular maintenance-he's lucky all it did was overheat! He could've warped the heads! Or blown the entire damn engine!"

Wesker turned to William, who shrugged sheepishly before looking to Chaosia repentantly.

"I _said_ I was sorry. I just get so caught up in work that I forget! Hell, ask him! He had to remind me to eat in Grad School!"

Chaosia rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she moved towards the bar. Completely ignoring their presence as she pushed inside. Wesker waited a few moments-making sure she wouldn't just pop back out- before he rounded on Birkin, his irritation more than evident.

_**"Grad School?"**_

Birkin shrugged, scratching the side of his nose lazily as he propped himself against the hood of the car. And suddenly Wesker was reminded of the main reason he and William had always been toed such a tight line with one another. Where he was controlled-tried to keep every single thing within his grasp William would occasionally forsake everything else in light of accomplishing his goal. His one track mind focusing solely on his objective-leaving no room for consideration of anything or anyone else.

It was the monstrous side of William that had brought them together in the first place . . . and apparently Chaosia had been drawn into it.

"Eh, what'd you _**want**_ me to say? _Secret Umbrella research center?_ We didn't work on the bacteria I've told you all about, we worked on the T-Virus. Oh and we subsequently made monsters and zombies and_** –UMPH!**_"

Wesker moved, covering William's mouth with his hand as he glanced around; tugging the idiot closer by his shirt as he growled.

"**You** are a fool, _**William!** _What do you think you're doing?"

William tried to talk behind his hand, Wesker growling and moving it so he could explain himself; dragging the lanky man with him further down the street. William glanced back to the parked car, his eyes slightly worried as he pushed his hair out of his face.

"Uh Al? Shouldn't we stay with the car-"

"If she needs me she will call. Now stop dodging the question. What did you think you were doing?"

William shrugged out of his grasp, falling into step beside him as they walked slowly down the fairly deserted street. But the further away they got from the bar-from STARS and Chaosia- the more weary he seemed. His shoulders sagged and his lips tugged down in a frown, the playful spark from before almost completely gone.

"I didn't mean to kill the damn car, okay? I just-Spencer sent down a really odd order then Annie and I got into a fight and-**_*SIGH*_**. Its just been a bad night."

Wesker raised a brow, slowing his pace to a near crawl as Birkin started to lag.

"What order?"

Birkin turned, his eyes cold and calculating; the researcher pulling ahead of the man for a few moments before he receded back into the depths of William's mind.

"To push my G research harder or start to work on another virus. I have one year to perfect my work with G or he's going to hand it over to someone else. Its fucking Alexia all over again, Al. And I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that. Not Annie, not the other researchers. Not even you. Its why Annie and I fought. She thinks its too much work-too much pressure. I barely see my family now . . . if I do this I'll stay in the fucking lab. I just-"

"We'll fix it, Will. We always do. You always find a way to get past the hang-ups."

Birkin shook his head, giving him a sad look. And his next words tore Wesker's world down around him. How was this possible?

"Yeah well there is no **we**, Al. From here on out research wise its me. Spencer wants you to focus everything you have on STARS. On training them, getting them ready. They need to be perfect, Al. I don't know why-trust me I asked and he wouldn't say. All he would tell me is that from here on out Annie is your contact-same as Irons. He doesn't want you in the lab-in any lab at all. He wants you with them."

Wesker blinked, shaking his head.

"It doesn't make any sense! I'm the Chief of Security! He can't just-"

"He said you still have your position, Al. And the pay and benefits and everything else. He just wants you focused on your task. He's pleased with how far you've brought them this fast-with how well you've melded in . . ."

Wesker glared, truly unhappy at Birkin's hedging.

"But?"

Will swallowed loudly, looking away.

"He wants you deeper. So intertwined that no one will see you as anything but a member of the RPD, of STARS. He also wants you to see if Chaosia would join the ranks. Something about not wasting the wonderful talent you've found."

Wesker growled, running a gloved hand through his hair.

"_**FUCK!"**_

William snorted, moving to sink onto a snow covered bench with a nod. Wesker moved, dropping into place beside him; uncaring that he was getting soaked as the snow melted and seeped into his clothes.

"Yep. That's about the gist of it."

Wesker took in a breath, closing his eyes before he opened them; preparing himself for what he was about to do. He knew it could go badly but he had to try.

"Chaosia has refused other offers before. She is strangely content with her position-with her work. She is enthralled with virology but she won't leave pathology. I cannot push her to change career paths without answering questions."

Birkin nodded, searching his coat and pants before he produced a pack of cigarettes; offering one to Albert without even asking. Wesker took it, lighting the cig as William sighed; thick smoke swirling in front of them.

"I told him the same thing, pretty much. She turned down the offer at her thesis interview so I figured she still felt the same. Spencer was disappointed but doesn't want anything done. Yet. He did tell me to gently encourage her though. To offer to let her tour my main research lab-after a sweep of course. See if we can't wear her down. What I can't understand is why. Why do all of this now-"

Wesker stilled, inhaling the cigarette before he snorted.

"Because he's insane, William. This will go bad. It will be worse than Marcus, than Lisa Trevor."

William stared, his eye ticking before he groaned; throwing the mostly whole cigarette into the snow with a grumble.

"I know, Al. Trust me I know. _***SIGH***_ I'll take care of as much of it as I can, okay? Just follow your orders-at least until we know what we're up against here."

Wesker snorted, giving him a deadpan look before he nodded; leaning back into the seat. God their lives had just gotten so much more complicated.

"You as well, William. And **_no_** mistakes-not even small ones. We can't afford it. Not with this."

* * *

><p><em>yeah . . . more later. Poor Birkie. <em>


	19. Chapter 19

_Sorry its been so long! Okay the original chapt 19 that was up was just a filler . . . this is the real one. Sorry about the confusion but it took a while. And don't worry Night's Beloved, there's more of Bastian coming very soon. I just couldn't get this little bit of bonding out of my head:/. Thanks for all of the support!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Jealousy<strong>

_January 1997_

Chaosia sighed, tugging her hair back into a messy knot at the base of her skull as she worked; pointedly ignored the ringing phone on her desk, refusing to acknowledge the noisy contraption as she worked through the towering stack of files. Leaving the night before to collect William had set her back-meaning she would be lucky to leave before seven tomorrow morning. She hated having to leave anything undone-especially the reports and archives she'd been steadily updating- until tomorrow morning but it seemed more and more likely that would be what she ended up doing.

_Unless she wanted to sleep on a cot in the break room._

She looked up, her eyes searching for one of the clocks she'd banned from her office before she groaned; aggravated with herself all over again. She knew that she didn't need to worry about what time it was but her eyes kept wanting to close. And he kept trying to call her every five minutes. Christ she wasn't going to get anything done! She glanced down, shaking her head as she saw it was well after two in the morning now. But she still had at least another two hours of work before she could even begin to consider going home.

God all of this was killing her . . . And all because Albert's oldest friend couldn't master changing his own oil. She snorted to herself, rolling her eyes. She should've just left him on the side of the road. It would've saved her so much trouble . . . not to mention work and heartache.

She shifted, spinning in her chair to stretch before she pushed to her feet; shoving her cellphone into her pocket. She needed to take an inventory of supplies in the cold rooms anyway . . . and moving might make some of the feeling come back into her legs. She moved, tugging her dress a bit straighter. The charcoal leaf crepe double lapel pencil dress was tailored to hug her curves while the soft rounded shoulder and military epaulettes with painted buttons made it a bit less formal-her stark white labcoat making it seem more suited to the morgue and labs. And though she loathed having to wear the pretty day dress for anything other than a luncheon or something non-work-related she'd needed to look her best for the meetings and reviews she'd been in most of the day. Plus she had to admit that she loved any excuse to pull out the matching charcoal crepe Christian Louboutins. The nearly four inch heel had put her eye level with Connors and brought her to Iron's nose. Which had made arguing with the Chief of Police over the excess work his department had forced on them so much easier.

_At least on her poor neck anyway._

She moved, going into the largest exam room to start looking through the supplies; taking count of what they had and what they would need to finish up the rest of the month. She sighed, reaching out and touching every item she needed; opening the boxes and taking count before she moved on to the next. But when her hands hit the last box of small gloves she growled, seeing that not only had the box been opened and returned to the shelf-instead of put in the damned dispenser like it should've been- but it was empty!

She picked up the box, carrying it with her back to her desk; tossing the box and her phone onto the surface before she opened the digital copy of her order form for their medical supplies. After she was done with this she could go back to the paperwork, and hopefully be done before the sun rose. At least she was off tomorrow and the day after.

_Thank God . . ._

She sagged against the desk, looking over the last bit before her phone vibrating brought her eye up; the black voicemail icon barely visible against the green screen. She reached out to get it before she shook herself, turning back to her work. It was probably just Wesker yelling at her over last night-_**again.**_ Because no one else would call her at-she glanced to her watch- nearly three in the morning. She went back to work, filling in the test results for the tissue analysis when the phone buzzed again. But it kept buzzing after the first two seconds; ringing five more times before it finally stopped.

She rolled her eyes before turning to the now silent phone, breathing a sigh of relief before glaring as it started to ring. Again. She growled, reaching out to pick it up before she stopped herself; shaking her head as she glanced at the incoming number. Albert. Again. God couldn't he get the message? She wasn't going to talk to him while he was still being an asshat.

The phone cut out after two rings-the caller ID declaring the missed attempt two seconds before her cell started to ring. She growled, throwing the pen back onto the desk in exhausted frustration before she ran a hand through her now falling hair. She reached out, looking to the faceplate to see her brother's work number with a groan. Great it was Bastian . . . probably wanting to know why she'd stopped answering Albert's calls-and actively shunning Redfield.

She groaned, letting her head drop to the desk hard enough that she winced; instantly regretting the action as her forehead started to throb. But she was at her limit. She'd gone to help William last night-for Albert since he'd said he couldn't get in touch with him- and had run the oddball by O' Flanagan's when he'd asked. It wasn't her fault that her lover had grabbed his friend and run off as soon as she'd gotten there; effectively abandoning her to Bastian and the rest of STARs.

So she'd accepted the scotch from Redfield when he'd offered. And so they'd eased away from the others to talk, trying to stay as far from Bastian's shenanigans as they could while keeping an eye on the idiot. It wasn't like she'd wanted to be there! She'd only gone as a favor to him! Hell, she'd only stuck around so she could at least tell him goodbye before she went back to work. But when the ball had dropped and the count had started she'd accepted the second scotch from Chris, the two of them still trying to talk over the drunken counting of the other patrons.

Chaosia sighed, glaring at the phone as though it were the source of her troubles. Chris had been goofy and sweet, joking as they waited before he'd finally given up; goading her into counting down the last ten seconds of 96 with the rest of the drunkards. And though now she wished she hadn't it had been fun at the moment, leaning against him and trying not laugh as they listened to the others miscount.

She sighed, answering the phone tiredly. She still didn't understand why Albert was freaking out. It wasn't like she'd fucking slept with the man! She'd laughed when a friend leaned in and kissed her cheek, she hadn't shoved her tongue down his throat! And she hadn't tried to be deceitful about it. God he just needed to get a grip on reality. It was a tradition to share a kiss at midnight on New Year's Day. And if he hadn't run off with William she would've been more than content to kiss him.

"What is it, Sebastian?"

"_Oh so you'll answer him but not me?"_

She stilled, glancing back at the phone to double check as the wrong voice filled her ear. But the call was from Bastian's extension . . . meaning she'd been sold out. Oh she was going to kill her brother when she saw him. Couldn't he not meddle just this once? She cleared her throat, trying not to sound too caught off guard as she talked with him.

"Well I figured it was important since its his work number. Why are you still there?"

_"Because certain members of the squad neglected to inform me that they were months behind in paperwork. And everything must be completed and filed before the end of the day tomorrow. I had to stay to ensure it is actually done this time."_

She rolled her eyes, glaring at her own farily crowded desk. Well at least they were both in the same boat there. She shifted in her seat, leaning back to closer her eyes as she spoke. God she just wanted to go home and go to sleep!

"Gee, sounds familiar. We got the same decree from Irons and the Deputy Commissioner this morning. Who else got stuck?"

He snorted over the line, his voice showing his aggravation. But it was his words that made her fume. If he'd done what she thought he'd done she would skin him alive! There was no need for him to do this!

_"Redfield. Speyer and Frost were here but they finished nearly three hours ago-as did Valentine and Burton. As of now it is only myself and Christopher."_

Chaosia growled into the phone, uncaring that she probably just royally pissed him off. He needed to stop doing this petty bullshit! He'd been ill since last night-snapping and snarling at her before she'd finally left his home; returning to her home and vowing never to set foot in his again. And now he was taking his own idiocy out on Chris. God why were men so damned pigheaded?!

"Just Redfield? Why aren't you letting him leave, Albert? Its nearly three in morning. Surely the two of you can finish tomorrow-"

_"It has to be done tonight, Chaosia. And if he would focus, apply himself instead of fighting the work then we wouldn't have been here this long! Do you honestly **think** I wish to spend the entire night **here?!** With** him?!"**_

She narrowed her eyes before she closed them, trying to reign in her temper. He was ill and grouchy and sleepy-just like her. And he was having to do something he obviously didn't want to do. _But still . . ._ he needed to learn to work with other people's habits-adapt to their handicaps and strengths or he would forever push himself to this point. Snapping and snarling while he bore the brunt of the work. All because he refused to learn what he could trust certain people to do better than others.

She sighed, taking the moral high ground and letting her anger fade-at least from her voice; explaining her point to him while trying not to be condescending. If she pissed him off even worse then Chris would suffer for it-and so would the others if his bad mood carried for more than a day.

"Chris has the same attention deficit problem as Khail, Albert. It isn't that he's not trying to focus its that he can't. Engaged in combat or something that's all engrossing then you have no problem. But the second you give him something tedious and mind numbing-like paperwork or debriefings then he has to force himself to be attentive. Trust me when I say that the harder you push him the longer it will take."

Wesker snorted over the line again, his voice going from irate to grumpy as he sulked. God how long had it been since he'd slept?

_"That sounds more like a **lack** of will and obedience than anything else, Dear heart."_

She shrugged, moving to restart her paperwork.

"Don't I know it? Why do you think he and Khail clash so badly? They're too damn much alike to coexist peacefully-at least with a catalyst like Claire between them. Chris is her brother-therefore Khail will never be good enough. And Khail dislikes the way Chris babies and smothers Claire-regardless of the fact that he and Bastian have both tried to do the same damn thing to me. *SIGH* Just-give him some hot coffee and sit with him; instead of holed away in your cave. You'll be amazed at how much the human interaction will speed things up."

He was quiet for a few moments before he sighed, his voice bitter with a sharp cutting edge as he spoke; the thinly veiled dig forcing her to draw on her patience reserves to keep from snapping.

_"Your newfound understand of the** Redfield psyche** is astounding Chaosia. Is **this** what the two of you discussed so **passionately** last evening?"_

She clenched her fist, the ball point stick pen in her grasp snapping; sending blue ink dripping onto her paperwork and her labcoat sleeve. The blue stained the white almost immediately; the color seeping into the fabric so deeply she knew at once it would never be totally clean again. She threw the ruined pen away, her irritation finally reaching its boiling point.

"Oh for Christ's sakes, Albert. _**Grow up!**_ The man_ kissed_ me on the **_cheek_ **for a fucking tradition. It wasn't anything other than a friendly gesture-someone being kind; someone trying to be nice. If _**you**_ hadn't run off with William you would've been there and seen it for yourself! Besides _**I'm**_ not the one who slinks around, hopping from bed to bed. That-if memory serves me correctly was you, Dr. Wesker. _**Christ!** _Stop being an insecure, pompous jealous jackass and go do your job. And if I hear one word-one uttered instance of you mistreating that man because of your hangups you won't have to worry about what I _**passionately discuss**_ with anyone! Because it won't be _**you**_!"

She hung up, breathing heavily before she turned her cellphone off; slinging it and her pager into her desk drawer. She pushed to her feet, shedding the labcoat and tossing it into the trash; determined to just buy a new one. Why waste the energy when she knew it was ruined? She turned on the water, scrubbing her hands harder than necessary as she fumed.

God for someone who was supposedly so in control of himself Albert Wesker had a very bad habit of letting is paranoia and imagination run away with him!

_**Her **and **Chris Redfield?! **_

_**Seriously?!**_

* * *

><p>Chris sighed, running his hand down his face as he pushed back into the main portion of the STARS office; fighting back the yawn trying to escape. He couldn't start that shit or he was done for. Besides he only had twenty more files to update-a far cry from the nearly eighty he'd started with that's for sure. It didn't matter anymore that over half of what he'd had to 'fix' had actually been him having to fill out complete copies of existing files-because of typos or his handwriting or whatever bullshit the sticky note on the folder claimed. He just wanted to be done. And if he could buckle down he could be out of here before the asscrack of dawn.<p>

_Probably not but he could dream right?_

He glanced up, shocked to see Wesker sitting at Jill's desk; half of his last stack already –neatly-stacked while the Captain's blonde head was dipped. Chris stood there a moment, watching Wesker quickly scan the paperwork before he shook his head; flipping to the next page and filling in the required information. But what he couldn't understand was why. Why was Wesker out here-helping him when he'd stayed in his office most of the night?

"Anytime you're ready to rejoin the effort would be acceptable, Redfield. I _**would**_ like to see my home before the end of the day tomorrow."

Chris jumped, moving to sink into his seat slowly; only then noticing the steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee that had been hidden behind the tall stack of papers. His brows dipped in confusion as Wesker sighed, the pen he was holding dropping to rest on the file as he looked up. His sunglasses were gone and his eyes were guarded; tired but nowhere _near_ as expressive as Jill swore they had to be. Chris snorted mentally, rolling his eyes. He hated to tell Jill-and the other women with the RPD-but he doubted Albert Wesker had an expressive bone in his body. At least not the way that they thought. He was cold and detached with Chaosia for Christ's sakes-the woman who willingly put up with him! Wesker looked him over for a few seconds before he nodded to the coffee, his eyes returning to the file as he picked up the pen; resuming his work like nothing had happened.

"I would suggest drinking it before it gets cold if I were you. Once it falls below this temperature its not worth trying."

Redfield nodded, picking up the cup and taking a hesitant sip; trying not to cringe at how hot and strong the brew was. Christ was he trying to kill him? He took a long draw before sitting the cup back down, forcing himself to swallow as he nodded; opening the next file. They worked like that for what seemed like forever-the only sound filling the office their breathing and the scratching sound of pen on paper and the flipping of pages. But finally the quiet was too much. When he'd been out here alone it had been fine-but with another person to talk to Chris was about to go crazy.

He opened his mouth, ready to speak when Wesker surprised him; beating him to it.

"Remind me to address clerical's inability to utilize the copiers that are at their disposal. If they are unable to operate them then they do not need their positions."

Chris blinked before laughing long and hard, shaking his head as he turned back to his file. After he had composed himself he nodded, flipping to the whole two slots that needed to be filled in this particular file.

"Oh _**trust** _me, Captain. I will. After I go down and have a nice long talk with whoever stuck these damn sticky notes on the fuckers. I've had_** ten**_ that have been me filling in the case number on every fucking page."

Wesker stilled, looking up with a raised brow.

"It is protocol to do so with every file we hand down, Redfield. I **showed** you how to that _**myself**_. Have you _**not**_ been doing it?"

Chris snorted, flipping the file around to show him what he meant. And he watched the exhaustion ebb from Wesker's eyes, replaced by true fury and frustration as he growled. The number was there-had been filled in neatly with _blue ink_. But the new clerk wanted all of the paperwork completed in **black ink**-and had crossed out the existing number so it could be whited out and filled in **_'properly'_**.

Wesker closed his eyes, running a hand down his face before he picked up his own coffee; draining half with a grimace before he continued working. Though he seemed to be putting more pressure on the pen and not caring if he flipped the pages a little rougher than he had before.

"Oh _**this**_ is fucking _**nonsense**_."

Chris sat there for a moment, awestruck as he realized what exactly was happening. Albert Wesker-the cool collected Captain of STARS was aggravated. Not just irritated at some stunt or mishap-no he was truly and righteously pissed. Something Chris realized was far more terrifying than his normal detached mood. No wonder the guy acted like an ice block. If he ever let lose then half of the squad would shit their hearts.

_Especially Vickers._

Finally Chris nodded, picking up his own cup and taking another drink; noticing the bitter taste now that it was cooling. He grimaced, shaking his head as he went back to work; not expecting Wesker's next statement.

"I warned you, Redfield. I still have no idea how Bastian drinks this swill but it was all that was left."

Chris grinned, shaking his head with a chuckle; setting the now complete file aside to grab another.

"I don't think he has tastebuds left, sir. But if it makes you feel any better this is the _'sober up brew_'. Its _**supposed** _to shock you awake."

Wesker snorted, Chris able to see him rolling his eyes as he worked. And suddenly he wondered how often Wesker did that-rolled his eyes or narrowed them or closed them in irritation. They normally didn't see him without his sunglasses-unless Chaosia was around and stole them.

"If he's _**that**_ hung over then he should not be on duty. Because I am fairly certain that pot of coffee could raise the dead."

Chris laughed again, amazed at the biting smartass sense of humor rearing its head. He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't know to interact with this new side to the Captain. Normally it was _yes sir_ and _no sir,_ do as he said and give no lip. But here, with just the two of them it seemed that a lot of his rigidity had faded; letting Redfield see there was more to him than just the Captain's bars shades and cold attitude.

More to the point he wanted to talk-needed to to stay awake. But what could he talk to him about? They could only bitch about the coffee and clerical for so long. He swallowed nervously, deciding just to wing it.

"Is Chaosia pissed?"

Wesker's head snapped up hard enough that it made Chris's neck hurt, the incredulous look in those blue eyes alarming before they iced over; going cold as he glared at him. Hard. Chris nearly winced, deciding to finish his thought before he got shot.

"I mean, she said last night that since she got called in yesterday she'd hoped the _**two** of **you**_ would get to spend time together today and tomorrow. She mentioned going back up to the lakehouse. I'm guessing since you're here that plan got burned. I just-I hope _**you**_ having to stay here with _**me**_ isn't causing a problem."

Wesker seemed to mellow before he returned his eyes to the file, Chris breathing a sigh of relief as soon as the icy blue left his. _Note to self: do not randomly ask about Chaosia.** Ever.**_ It only seemed to piss him off. Wesker however shocked him, responding as he tossed his file aside and procured another; his voice no longer holding the same bite it had before.

"She _**was** _upset-though not with you. She was called in to mediate between her superior and Irons earlier today. It seems they are working tonight as well. I have no idea whether she will have to forfeit her day tomorrow."

Chris nodded, biting his lip before he blundered ahead; completely disregarding the mental note he'd just made for himself.

"Well I hope she doesn't. Everyone needs a break, you know? And the two of you work enough that two days away shouldn't be such a big deal. Speaking of which, where is Bravo? Aren't they just as _**'behind'**_ as we are?"

Wesker glanced up, his eyes taking on decidedly devious glint as he smirked; his voice dark and almost sinister as he spoke.

"Apparently Marini convinced Irons to allow them to complete their workload tomorrow. But rest assured, it is _**four times**_ as much as what we had to correct."

Chris balked, stunned.

"Jesus Christ, that much?! Will they get it all done?"

Wesker nodded, looking back to the file in hand. his words teaching Chris a valuable lesson-never, ever cross Albert Wesker. Because he didn't forget shit. He nodded, refusing to comment. Because he sure as hell didn't want to get volunteered to help the poor bastards.

"If they start in-" he glanced to his watch before continuing –"forty-five minutes and work completely through _**both shifts**_ then there should be no issue. Which they had_** best**_ do if they wish to retain their positions. Marini was loud enough in proclaiming Bravo could stand alone without Alpha-so surely back paperwork should be nothing to overcome. Especially given that we were dispatched and handled a hostage situation this morning ontop of this hell."

* * *

><p>Chaosia rolled out of the blinding late morning sun, trying to get comfortable as she shifted in her bed. But no matter what she did she couldn't seem to get to the middle. Which was odd seeing as in that was usually where she slept-when she was alone at least. She grimaced, sitting up half asleep and pushing at the large pillow that refused to move. A hard nudge and it finally gave, moving over just enough for her to get to the spot she usually slept in. But something was still off. The bed was too warm. And the pillow was still incredibly stiff and solid.<p>

She growled to herself, punching the pillow again trying to fluff it. But when the pillow grunted she felt her heart stop. Chaosia shot up, looking around wildly as she clutched her chest; trying to will her heart to ease its pace. She shook herself, trying to make her breathing even out as she looked over the sleeping form beside her. She reached down, pinching herself-hard- before she opened her eyes again. But the same sight was still waiting on her . . . she just couldn't get her sleep and adrenaline fogged mind to remember what had happened last night.

She'd gone into work and tolled away, arguing with Albert over Redfield at some point near 3 AM before she finally cut her phone off completely. And then she'd still ended up staying until after seven. Actually she explicitly remembered telling him yesterday-an the night before-that until his attitude changed she wasn't going to deal with him.

_So why in hell was he in bed with her?_

She stilled, watching the aggravating confusing man sigh deeply as he moved; letting her see just how damned relaxed he looked while he was unconscious. Her aggravation with him ebbed away as she noticed the dark bruises beneath his eyes and how still he was, barely shifting or moving save to draw in a breath. Meaning he was absolutely exhausted.

Chaosia yawned as she stretched before settling against him; snuggling deeper into her lover's arms as he slept beside her. It was odd to see Albert so relaxed and open-honestly content- but she wasn't above saying that she enjoyed it. She reached up, tracing his jaw as he shifted in his sleep; feeling the stubble beneath her fingers as he tugged her closer before settling back into the bed.

She rolled her eyes, resting her cheek against his bare chest with a delicate huff as she closed her eyes. To hell with it. She would rant at him later-they were both too tired and worn out to bother. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it she _**always**_ slept better when he was with her . . . and now that she'd had some form of rest-however limited-his jealous little snit the night before was endearing.

_Aggravating and completely hypocritical given their track record but endearing all the same._

Chaosia shook her head, pressing her lips to his chest before she relaxed; allowing herself to drift back off.

She'd deal with Albert later . . . now she just wanted to enjoy him.

* * *

><p><em>sorry. I was given jealousy as a prompt. <em>


	20. Chapter 20

_Here's the painting chapter from before. If you've already read it feel free to skip to the next one-there's nothing new here._

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><p><span><strong>Paint<strong>

_January 1997  
><em>

Wesker looked over the bright blue paint bordering the stark white trim of the bedroom, trying not to go and fix the-obviously-crooked points as he contemplated exactly what was happening. Near the tops of every single window, doorframe, footboards and electrical receptacles it was blindingly easy to see that whoever had tried to tape hadn't had a steady hand. Or the needed height to actually reach some of the untapped corners.

He snorted, shaking his head as he'd remembered exactly what Annette Birkin's reply to William's blunt observation had been.

"_Over two-thirds of this is going to have to be fixed, honey. It'll take longer now than if we'd just done it to begin with-"_

"_Your __**daughter **__wanted to help paint her room, William."_

"_But she already got to choose the color! And she's taking over my office-"_

"_**Our**__ office is downstairs and you know it-"_

"_Yeah but this is the one is the one people actual get to __**see**__! I mean she's already painting it fucking __**pink**__!"_

"_She's a __**girl,**__ William. And she's __**allowed**__ to act like one. Now just fix it as you go but don't you __**dare**__ say a word to Sherry. She wanted to help!"_

Wesker rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how talented and intelligent his goddaughter was. This hadn't been her attempt to help . . . this had been payback for her parents not letting her do exactly as she'd wanted. And he knew that he wasn't going to be spared because he hadn't cared enough to weigh in.

_Actually Sherry seemed to mirror Chaosia in the mindset of 'not caring to do it right is worse than just not doing it right.'_

Sighing, he glanced over to the painfully bright cheerful comforter set seated neatly against the hallway, the dusky lavender and cream a stark contrast to almost fuscia and black accents running through the faux French country bedding. He'd listened to Chaosia ramble about how Sherry was going to love the _**extra**_ Christmas presents she'd gotten-from him so he wouldn't have to face a mall-for nearly an hour the night before when she'd gotten back from shopping. And as he'd looked over the framed butterflies and the black and cream shadowboxes-of keys, ribbons and calligraphied letters- he was left wondering exactly when he'd thought letting her go anywhere with his credit cards was a good thing.

_Or how he'd been conned into helping his friend paint to begin with._

He'd only meant to stop in to Birkin household for a few moments. He'd just wanted to drop off his notes on William's latest break through with the G-Virus, to discuss the merits and disadvantages of shortening the lifespan now that they had succeeded in keeping host mutation to a minimum. So how he was standing here in Sherry's bedroom preparing to engage in such menial labor was beyond him.

Wesker turned, glancing down the hallway to William; raising a brow as Annette pushed a thick book of paint swatches into his hands. While Sherry bounced-practically bounced- from foot to foot to as she grinned. Wesker sighed, shaking his head before a soft touch to his chest brought his eyes down to meet a set of very amused blue-green irises. He raised a brow, watching Chaosia lean into him; her lips spreading into a wry grin.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Captain?"

He rolled his eyes, glaring down at her as she giggled. He already hated being in the old paint crusted jeans and the ratty tee shirt-courtesy of Chris Redfield of all people. And the knowledge that he would probably be covered with putrid pink paint. But Chaosia seemed as eager to get started as Sherry. Like she enjoyed the thought of being reduced to hired-unpaid- help and babysitters while Annette traipsed off.

_This was his punishment for pushing William to Annette years before, he just knew it._

He snorted again, turning to see Annette was already gone and William was crouched in front of Sherry; the two deep in an argument over colors. Because the child was so the person to consult on the pigment to drench the walls in. Hands on his face brought his eyes back down to Chaosia, her smile falling as she looked over his disgruntled features.

"Hey . . . if you don't want to do this then you don't have to. I mean, I can stay and help them paint."

His brows furrowed as he cupped her cheek, looking her over in confusion as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Why would you stay if I didn't?"

She rolled her eyes, giving him a deadpan look before she shook her head. She stretched up, brushing her lips against his before she eased back and started towards the bickering Birkins.

"Because they're important to you. He's like the only friend you have other than my brother and Chris-who I still think counts as your friend even if you claim you can't stand him. You know since he seems to be able to stand you. And she's your goddaughter. Besides."

She stopped at the doorframe, looking back to him with a wink and a grin.

"I _**like**_ to paint. And I might be able to help poor Will if I can convince Sherry that painting the room the lavender color would be better than the bright pink."

Wesker watched her turn and round the corner, her voice joining the conversation in the hall a few seconds later. And about two minutes after that Sherry came bounding back down the hall, grabbing the comforter from the wall before she turned back to him; her head whipping to him as he spoke to her.

"And what are you doing now Sherry?"

She blushed, grinning as she picked the overstuffed acrylic bag up; barely able to lift it as she started pointing to the 'faded' lavender flowers on the covers. She seemed even more excited than she had been before, her eyes shining as she explained 'her' latest plan.

"Oh Uncle Albert! It's going to be great! Chaos said that I could paint the room this purple! _**See?!**_ And that if I wanted to change it later then all I'd have to do is flip the comforter cause its lavender, black and cream stripes! **Without **the pink! And all of the other stuff you got me will match!"

He raised a brow, actually dipping to eye level with the grinning little girl as she beamed.

"I thought you _**wanted**_ the room pink?"

Sherry rolled her eyes, almost grimacing before she glanced down the hall. He turned, seeing Chaosia was talking to William; his best friend looking to his lover like she was a godsend. Sherry leaned in, whispering loudly as they watched Chaos show William the lighter of the greyish purple swatches; her eyes shining as he nodded and agreed. The color wasn't bright or loud . . . and it wouldn't constitute any loss of masculinity if they helped the child cover her blinding azure walls with it.

"Nuh-uh. _**Mom**_ wanted the pink. So I could be girlier or something. She thinks it's weird that I like bugs and bacteria like Dad. And she wanted me to have the bright pink to 'help be normal'. So she told Day I wanted it so he'd help me paint. But there's nothing wrong with liking bugs and viruses, right Uncle Albert?"

Wesker nodded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Annette worked with William on the G-Virus, she worked for Umbrella. She should be happy that her daughter was intelligent and interested in learning, not wanting to limit her. He glanced back to Chaosia, her voice carrying down the hall. And-for a split second-Wesker wondered if he and the woman before him would ever have the same debate.

"This should settle everything. It's girly enough for Annette but still . . . _**quirky**_ enough for Sherry. It's her room so we'll let her decide but this should be good. And it's **not **_**pink**_."

"Oh thank God. I just want to be able to read to her at night without thinking about Pepto-Bismol. How'd you think of this?"

Chaosia laughed, patting his arm.

"I was a kid once. You know, centuries ago. And just to let you know, I hated the color pink. Still do though not as bad. Besides it's _**her**_ room. If she wants to hang bugs on the walls then let her."

Any children they would produce would-if one bothered to run the numbers- be as intelligent as Sherry Birkin; if not more. And while he could see Chaosia was willing to compromise to let Sherry have her way-to grow and express herself-would she give her own children the same consideration? Chaosia turned, smiling to them before she waved; turning back to William with a warm smile as his friend laughed.

Sherry tugged his sleeve, bringing his eyes back to hers. She leaned in closer, her chapped bottom lip tugged between her crooked teeth as she grinned at him. And Wesker didn't fight the tiny smirk that spread across his lips.

"I like Chaos, Uncle Albert. I like her a lot. I hope she stays for a while."

He nodded, glancing back to Chaosia as she smacked William with the swatch book; his friend laughing aloud as his lover rolled her eyes. He hated to admit it-even to himself-but he agreed with his goddaughter. He hoped in his unguarded moments-even if his assignment with STARS ended and he went back to Umbrella sometime in the unforeseen future-that Chaosia would stay with him.

He turned back to Sherry and nodded, looking to the bag in her hands thoughtfully before he made up his mind. Even if he had to lie, cheat and steal; if he had to slaughter any and everything that threatened his happiness he would have it. And for the foreseeable future that happiness-the one thing he'd rarely ever had in his lifetime with Umbrella under Spencer's rule-included the woman currently moving towards them.

* * *

><p><em>And here is the paint.<br>_


	21. Chapter 21

_Last one for today. I swear I have no idea where this came from. . . probably too much time in the hospital :/. Now I know this is a little OOC but seriously everyone feels like shit when they're sick.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sick<strong>_

_January 1997_

Wesker groaned, shifting in his bed; fighting to draw his next breath. He'd known the second he'd stepped into the Birkin household that he'd needed to leave-to escape before he'd gotten too immersed to get away . . . But as soon as he'd seen the sheer excitement in Sherry's eyes-accompanied by the pride in William's and the horror in Annette's-Wesker hadn't been able to back out the way his survival instinct had screamed he should.

He'd gone along with his surprisingly exuberant goddaughter, following her to the painfully sloppily labeled sample. He'd peered through the microscope, marginally impressed at the viral bacteria Sherry had grown for her latest science assignment. Praising her efforts as she'd jumped and grinned. Wesker never voiced that he could very clearly tell William had done most of the work-or that he doubted the school board would allow her to present the weak but obviously weaponized strain.

He snorted, the sound muffled by his mucus clogged sinuses; his entire body aching from the small exhale of breath. Why in the hell William had thought teaching Sherry to weaponize the flu was 'proper parenting' was beyond him . . . but knowing the scheming duo had _**intentionally**_ exposed him to it only solidified his opinion. William Birkin was certifiably insane. He didn't care if they could track the virus in his system and chart possible cures and treatments for the symptoms. He didn't care that he was perfect for this because he rarely became ill and he was in perfect health . . . he refused to be a willing guinea pig.

_Even for Sherry._

He groaned, closing his eyes as he covered his face with his hands, trying not to wince at how tender his sinuses were. His whole body was sore and tender, his joints and extremities ached and he could barely draw in a breath without hearing this ungodly wet rattle deep in chest and throat. And that wasn't even counting the nausea from the mucus dripping slowly down his esophagus or the sheer pressure in his head behind his eyes and in his ears.

If there was a hell then he was surely in it . . . and it was all courtesy of the Birkins-specifically the eldest. Who had oh-so-bluntly informed him that this was payback for his attitude on New Year's Eve. Wesker sniffed before sneezing, the force behind the action jerking his neck and shoulders as he groaned; flopping back into the covers in near defeat.

_Christ why had he ever kept contact with William?_

* * *

><p>Hours later cool fingers running over his face made Wesker start back to awareness; turning to find a rather bemused Chaosia lying beside him. Propped on an elbow as she tsked. He blinked; confused before he remembered he'd given her a key. At the time he hadn't second guessed the decision; knowing that her set only opened the front and back doors-leaving his office and the door to his basement- e.g. the private lab beneath the house- safely secured at all times. But as he watched amusement dance behind her eyes he realized that maybe he should've considered this.<p>

_His lover was a sadist at heart . . . and he'd caused her enough aggravation the past few months that he knew she was relishing the opportunity to see him so incapacitated._

He glowered up at her before he huffed, the sound nearly muffled by the now solid mucus clogging his nose. Chaosia giggled, tracing his cheeks and nose lightly as she cooed to him; her cool skin a welcome relief from the sudden heat engulfing him. Had he turned on the heat and forgotten . . . or was he truly that feverish? He shivered, the sudden cold chill trilling down his spine answering his question as Chaosia's grin fell; her eyes becoming more worried than amused.

"Oh Albert. You really _**are**_ miserable aren't you? What have you taken since we talked?"

His brows drew on their own before one raised higher than the other, his snot clogged brain struggling to process what she'd said. She must be infected as well because he hadn't spoken to her at all-not that he recalled anyway.

"What are talking about, Chaosia? I haven't spoken to anyone. I've been trying to sleep-"

"I know, honey. Bastian called me when you took a sick day. And I called you before I went to work. I told you I would come stay the night-take care of you since we're both off tomorrow. _**Remember?**_"

He blinked, pushing into a sitting position with a pained groan; too tired and miserable to care that he'd actually vocalized his discomfort. _Besides, it was just Chaosia._ She moved, the back of her hand settling against his cheek for a few moments before she repeated the action at his forehead; clucking her tongue as she shook her head.

"You're burning up, Albert. Have you taken anything for the fever?"

He shook his head, not even bothering to resist as she tugged him to rest against her; his head in her lap as her fingers brushed through his hair. Slowly her cool fingers combed through his locks, brushing over his temples and forehead as she sighed. He had no idea how long he stayed there, sprawled across his bed and wrapped around her like a child's toy and he honestly didn't care. Sitting still, slightly propped up made it easier to breathe . . . and her quiet humming and soft touches made him feel better even though he knew it was illogical. Simple touches and gestures couldn't really alleviate suffering from sickness-but somehow just having someone else there made it seem more bearable.

Eventually she moved, sliding out of the bed and towards his bathroom; the sound of the shower starting almost completely muted by the pressure behind his ear drums. He groaned, shifting to lay on his back. When he got over this-if he survived- he was going to kill William Birkin.

_Slowly and painfully. _

* * *

><p>Chaosia stood beneath the spray of water, biting her lip as Albert rested almost solidly against her. She knew it was wrong to want to laugh-and honestly right now she was about to burst- but she couldn't help it. Albert Wesker always seemed so in control, so capable of handling anything that to see him like this was almost surreal. Not to mention fucking hilarious.<p>

The man had stood up to bomb wielding maniacs and gun toting morons, had been through riots and hostage situations and citywide manhunts all without batting an eye. Never once looking the worse for wear. But let him catch the flu-really not even the flu, just more of a bad cold!- and he proved he was like _**every**_ other man on the planet.

_The world's biggest fucking baby when he didn't feel good._

He groaned, his forehead falling to her collarbone; allowing more of the scalding water to roll over her as she fought back a sigh. She moved, running her fingers through his hair; biting her lip as he grumbled against her skin. He shifted, nuzzling his nose and cheek against her neck; his lips brushing her skin as he groused. And if it weren't for how pitiful he was she would've laughed aloud at how despondent he sounded.

"I _**hate**_ William. This is_** all**_ his fault."

Chaosia closed her eyes, working to keep the humor from her voice as she responded; giving him the same answer she'd used hours before on the phone. He'd told her that Will and Sherry had both been sick when he'd gone to see them yesterday-though neither had apparently said anything until after he'd already been there for hours. And he was still resolute in blaming his friend for his incapacitation.

"Oh honey, it isn't like he _**meant **_to get you sick. Flus and viruses are _extremely_ contagious-you _**know**_ that."

Wesker snorted, the sound nowhere near as pronounced as it normally was as he wound his arms tighter around her waist; tugging her closer as he all but whined. She bit her lip hard enough to hurt, quelling the building laughter at his exasperated tone. He sounded less like a decorated Captain and doctor and more like a petulant nine year old, the slight nasal quality to his voice only adding to the effect.

"He did this on purpose. Fucking ass-"

Chaosia couldn't help it, she laughed; the sound echoing off of the walls as he turned enough to cut his eyes to her. Glaring as hard as he could. Though with how swollen his eyes and cheeks were he looked more like he was wincing, the firm set of his lips seeming more like a pout than the reprimanding expression she was used to. She shook her head, dipping to kiss his cheek apologetically; working to get herself under control.

She could laugh later . . . right now she needed to take care of him. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Oh c'mon honey. He didn't deliberately give you the flu. Stop being paranoid and relax; you'll feel better if you're not brooding."

He snorted, turning to burying his face in her neck again; leaning a little heavier against her as his lips brushed her damp skin.

"I am _**not**_ brooding. I am contemplating my revenge."

She rolled her eyes, dipping to kiss his cheek as she chided him. He snorted again, his curses and groaning muffled as he buried his nose in her hair. Leaving her to realize that she was in for a long night-and possibly next day. Please let this virus pass quickly. Because she doubted her sanity and his ego could handle much more of this.

"Well contemplate vengeance when you feel better."

He nodded, looking to her expectantly; his expression so lost and hopeful that she knew she wouldn't be able to say no. Making her suddenly glad that Albert didn't get sick often . . . because she found she couldn't say no to the big, watery vulnerable blue eyes. God he wasn't ever supposed to look like this! It just wasn't right!

"Are you staying, dear heart? You don't have to-I would hate to think I infected you."

She nodded, brushing his wet hair from his eyes; giving him the warmest smile she could before she ran her nose down his cheek.

"I'll _**survive**_, Captain. I don't get sick often-not usually. And if I do I have sicktime banked so we're all good. Just do me a favor?"

He turned, reaching to shut of the water before eh stilled; nodding for her to continue.

"Anything."

"Next time, do not go visit William when he's sick."


End file.
